


Natasha and Pierre and the great college semester of 2019

by johnegbertkin



Category: Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - Malloy, Voyná i mir | War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anatole doesn’t ruin everything, Cheating, F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Fyodor “Fedya” Ivanovich Dolokhov/Elena “Hélène” Vasilyevna Kuragina, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, No one ships Anatole and Pierre so i had to write this shit myself, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Partying, Slow Burn, Sonya and Natasha are main characters too
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-10-14 10:29:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20599262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnegbertkin/pseuds/johnegbertkin
Summary: In which Natasha moves back to Moscow to attend college with her cousin, waiting for Andrei to return home from bootcamp.In which Pierre starts his third year of college and “wakes up” into love unexpectedly, coming to terms with his sexuality as he enters true adulthood.





	1. Natasha & Pierre

**Author's Note:**

> Obligatory College fic time!
> 
> Quick PSA, and if you weren’t aware, I’m not Russian! This story is written from the very American perspective of college, life, and legal standards (i.e gay marriage legalization, get it together Russia!) and i’m not embarrassed to say I know jack about what living and learning in Russia is actually al about!
> 
> The setting staying in Russia was to just stay true to the musical and its source material, even though i’m making my own liberal changes! Just excuse my little knowledge of true Russian culture, and i’ll try not to start WW3!
> 
> Please let me know how you feel about the fic <3, his will be a long boy i’m hoping!!

Natasha shifted restlessly in her seat, staring out the window as the grueling car ride came closer to being over, bouncing her leg. Every time a neighborhood passed by she would shoot up, waiting for the driver to turn on his signal and pull up to her Godmother's driveway. Yet, another neighborhood passed and it wasn't the one she was waiting for, slumping back into her seat again. 

Her cousin and her best friend since elementary, Sonya, took this chance to laugh at her. Natasha hadn't held still since they pulled away from their own homes and made the trip here. In fact, she hadn't held still since the letter from Moscow State University had come in the mail that March. Sonya reached a hand over to her friend, placing it lovingly on top of Natasha’s own, shaking her head and laughing playfully at her. ”We’ll be there soon, you're shaking the car!” 

Natasha sighed and smiled, letting Sonya’s hand melt into hers. ”I’m sorry I just can't stop stressing about everything! What if I left something important behind?” she asked rhetorically, not expecting Sonya to truthfully answer with any items in particular. Her cousin rubbed softly with her thumb over the back of her hand, shrugging, ”then... we'll just go buy a new one of whatever you left behind!” 

Natasha laughed at her and lifted her hand away from Sonya, moving her hands to fiddle with the bracelet Andrey had given her.

_Andrey. _She smiled fondly down at her wrist and made a note to not pick it apart. He had gifted the diamond-studded bracelet to her the night he left to enlist in the Military. She had been hysterical the night before, begging him to stick to his original plan and come to college with her and Sonya, but something had changed his mind. She had originally been furious with him before he pulled out the bracelet, promising himself to her in the most Andrey way possible, not with something traditional but something sporadic and childish, but beautiful. She stared at the diamonds like how she stared into his loving eyes, full of tears, the night he left. Natasha stopped herself from crying again, her makeup is freshly done as to look nice for Marya, breathing in sharply and dropping her wrist. 

She refocused in perfect timing for the driver to turn left down a long street, turning again not shortly after up the long driveway that leads to her Godmothers home. Natasha cheers up instantly, all thoughts of dread and sadness momentarily gone from her mind, as the excitement of seeing Marya after all these months filled her. Sonya shared this sentiment, grabbing the handle of the backpack between her legs and pulling it up to the middle of the backseat, a large cheesy smile on her face as she looked around the headrest of the passenger's side. 

The driver stopped the car as they finally reached the top, Natasha excitedly thanking him as she wrestled the door open and stepped outside, meeting Marya’s eyes as she herself stepped out from her beautiful and large house. Natasha squealed, letting go of her purse and running to Marya to hug her, her embrace met with a gasp and chuckle. Marya pulled Natasha back, holding her lovingly by the arms, looking her up and down with a warm smile as if judging her with silent eyes. Marya exhaled through her nose, bringing Natasha back for one more tight squeeze, swaying her side to side. 

”You've grown so much older and prettier since I last saw you!” she complimented, separating the hug finally. Sonya wasn't far behind Natasha into Marya’s arms, the two women laughing as they greeted each other. After the hugging was over, Marya straightened herself out, waving the girls over to the trunk of the car. The driver had come out to help, the girls unloading the car with him or their many, many, things. 

Marya tipped him graciously, making sure the entire car was clear of the airheaded girl's things, before letting him pull away. Sonya and Natasha had already begun hauling all the luggage up the steps and into the house, admiring the home they had partially grown up in. Marya entered after them with the last of their things, including the headphones Natasha had forgot shoved in the seat cushion, brushing her hands together signifying a job-well-done. 

“Alright, ladies! Let's get everything settled in-” she started, handing the bag in her hands to Natasha ”, it's the room up the stairs and to the left, drop everything off and then come back down here so we can talk!” 

The girls followed her orders just as told, giggling and chatting as they moved their things up the stairs, leaving the boxes full of room decorations at the door. Sonya opened the door for Natasha to the room they usually stayed in together on visits, things hanging up and left behind from when they were still children. The most obvious, the trail of kisses left marked down from the top of the mirror to the bottom, the mirror attached to a beautiful and old vanity. The lips of the cousins, sometimes Marya’s, and once Sonya's father when he had drank too much Vodka and tried on Natasha’s favorite red lipstick. 

Sonya rolled her eyes in embarrassment at the mention, throwing her suitcase up on the bed. ”I’ll miss him but God if he's not the most embarrassing person I've ever met!” she claimed, making Natasha laugh.

The girls finally pulled everything necessary into the room, barreling down the stairs like a pack of elephants to beat each other to the bottom, careful of the pictures and paintings lining the staircase walls. Marya stood at the bottom, arms outstretched like a barrier, making the girls stop. ”Goodness, are you not both grown women?! You strange girls…” she mumbled, pulling her hands down and averting her disapproving eyes. Natasha knew as well as Sonya not to take her insults to heart, her stern nature only laid out to cover her loving concern for the girls, and it might just be that their rich Godmother didn't like the girls plowing through the house like wild animals. 

”Now come on, I've made tea,” she said with a charming purr in her throat, guiding the girls into the dining room. The room was so large it was hard to imagine it was used only to eat, with 3 teacups placed at three of the chairs, picked out for the girls. 

“So tell me, what has been going on with you?” she asked the pair, either one free to answer. Sonya adjusted herself in the squeaky chairs, chiming in first ”I’ve been sick like all summer!” she exaggerated, picking up her cup. ”Well, you seem far healthier now, you're cheeks are glowing!” Marya sipped her drink. Sonya chuckled at her, putting a hand to her own cheek as if to confirm what Marya had said.

”And Natasha? How are you, my darling Natasha? How are you and Andrey?”

Natasha didn't need to pause, putting her cup down possibly too harshly ”He promised himself to me! I miss him a lot...He enlisted and he hardly texts me- He's busy of course! But I can't help but get anxious” she confessed. Marya laughed at her ”well he isn't fighting in any wars yet, beloved, he'll call you soon I'm sure~” she teased confidently. 

“Well, I have made a few plans for tomorrow!” Marya announced, setting her cup down gently against the plate. ”We’ll wake up around 9, we will all get ready and be out of the house by 11, we'll drive you two to the college and get you settled into the dorm-” Marya paused as if forgetting something.

”Ah! Yes, an old family friend of mine will be coming around to help unpack your things and show you around!” she states, bringing her cup to her lips.

”Family friend? Is he a professor?” Sonya asked confused, attempting to age Marya respectfully. Marya chuckled ”No no no, his name is Pierre, he's a Junior at the college this year. His father and I were once school friends, he’s a good kid.” 

Natasha wiggled her eyebrows at Sonya, making Sonya turn red with embarrassment. ”No! Stop it, Natasha!” she leaned across the table and pushed on her face, making the small group laugh. Natasha had always been struck by love from her first crush in elementary school, who she swore she would marry, to her beloved Andrey, the man she would marry, and she insisted everyone feel as struck with love as her.

The girls finished their tea, catching up for hours before Marya finally insisted on the girls trying to get some sleep. Sonya and Natasha said their goodnights and hurried up the stairs, the light from their room filling the dark hallway until they quietly slipped inside.

———————————————————

Natasha woke up first to the loud sound of Marya’s voice, followed by her loud pounding on the door. She sat up quickly, yawning as she rushed to the door, squeaky floorboards under her feet. She opened the door, Marya’s hand lifted as she prepared to knock again, a pleasant look of surprise filling her face.

“Oh, good morning Natalie! Where is-“ she stopped, as the two women turned to look at Sonya. Her back facing them, her headphones laying on the mattress behind her, music blaring so loud from them that in silence the two of them could almost make out words. Giggles erupted from pair as Natasha scurried over to her cousin on the bed, throwing herself on top of her with a loud ”OOF!”

Sonya turned surprised, knocking Natasha and her phone to the floor. Marya hurried over herself, lifting Natasha from the floor, and grimacing at the two ”Now must you make the most noise possible at the earliest times of the morning?” she asked sternly, met with tight lips and snorts, but agreeing shaking of heads.

”Now you girls get cleaned up, I allowed you to sleep 30 extra minutes so don't make me regret it!” she said, still with a smile on her face as she left the room. 

Natasha and Sonya didn't take long to start on their hair, Sonya needing to shower first left Natasha with a little extra time to spend perfecting her hair. She brushed the metal comb through her frizzy bed head, scooping gel with the tips of her fingers and following each tight tug on her hair. Natasha slicked back the fronts of her hair, grabbing it all as tightly as possible and tying her hair tie around it, using an old trusty one that was sure not to snap around her curls. She teased and pulled at the bun on her head, with gelled fingers, curling her curls around them to make each one more prominent. Natasha judged herself, smiling happily in approval, running her finger along her hairline to pull her baby hairs out, ready to start her edges. 

Sonya didn’t come in long after that, a towel around her chest and her shoulders still wet from the shower. She pulled her hair dryer from her bag, plugging it into the ancient socket in the wall. Sonya shook her long blonde hair from its towel wrap, throwing her head back so all the damp hair was behind her shoulders. She fingered her bangs apart, and turned on the dryer and started moving it around her head. She ran her fingers through her hair to dry it, layer by layer as Natasha meticulously shaped and swirled her baby hairs around her forehead. 

“Hmm...How are those?” she asked Sonya, looking at her. Sonya looked back at her with confused eyes, pulling the dryer from her head and shutting it off “What?” 

Natasha waved her hand at Sonya in a shooing motion, greeted by a shrug and the sound of the dryer whirring back up. It didn’t take the girls very long to do their hair, followed by makeup, and then the outfits they had picked out weeks in advance with each other. 

The pair had always been quite feminine, traditionally so to a degree you’d think they didn’t quite fit into the era. Their nativity and femininity didn’t stop them from following and loving current fashion trends though; especially not our Natasha. She wore tube tops, today a white one, with high waisted shorts pulled over her belly button, ripped up so you could see the fabric of the pockets, and hugged her so correctly that you could make out the new fullness in her thighs and hips. She wore sandals with straps that climbed up her calf like a gladiator, her pink sparkly toenails done for everyone to see. Of course, her favorite bracelet still shining on her wrist, gleaming when she turned her wrist from side to side.

Sonya wasn't quite so confident though, even if Natasha did look beautiful, she preferred a more modest style. A tank top to accommodate for the warm weather, covered by a light brown cardigan. Sonya has on a maxi skirt, one that ended just below her knees, the branches and pink Japanese cherry blossom pattern adding a whole load of color to her outfit. Unlike Natasha, Sonya had her ears pierced and wore pearl earrings, a pair her grandfather had bought her. 

There wasn't much reason to get dolled up to haul luggage and boxes, especially if only followed by lunch with family and friends, but why buy cute clothes if you don't plan to wear them? 

The girls repacked up the things they took out, dragging their bags back down the stairs, dropping them at the door. Marya turned the corner, covering her mouth to hide a large smile, her beautiful manicured nails being showed off as she gasped at the girls. She rushed to their sides ”Oh my girls! Sofia, Natalie, you are so grown and beautiful-” she choked as if to cry. 

Marya admired the girls for a few more moments before recomposing, waving her hands in the air. ”Alright! Let's go then, we don't want to keep Pierre waiting do we?”

———————————

The girls arrived at the University with gleaming eyes, Natasha nearly falling out of the window like a dog. They pulled their things from the trunk, stopped by a few campus administration, welcoming them to college with wide smiles. The friendliness unsettling, but yet still exciting to the young girls. 

Marya leads them around until finally, they came across the man that had been the discussion of the entire morning. A large, tall, man stood at the doors of the women’s dorms, spotting Marya and greeting her with just as much enthusiasm as she offered him.

”Marya!” he nearly shouted, bringing her into a large hug. Natasha couldn't help but blush at his large arms and hands, strong while still maintaining the cuteness if a chubby man. He was hairy, everywhere visible he was hairy. A large thick beard covering his chin and jaw, and hair up his arms and exposed calves, brown curls resting on his forehead. He had glasses balancing on his nose, thin wire frames hugging his ears. ”Oh, Pierre, hello good man! Thank you for coming to help my darlings- OH! my goddaughters!” she reminded herself.

Marya gestured behind her, pulling the girls forward and closer to Pierre, something they both remained too shy to do on their own. “This is Sofia, but she prefers Sonya-“ Marya introduced him, Pierre reaching out a hand and gently shaking her small and delicate hands. “-And this is my favorite, Natalie, but please call her Natasha!”

Pierre’s handshake was just as soft as it looked, his hands 3 times the size of Natasha’s, and that rush of romance flooded her again. All until her bracelet caught her eye, reminding her of what she really had in her heart. Natasha smiled up to Pierre, squeezing more firmly herself and pulling her hand away. 

“Well Pierre, we’ve kept you waiting long enough, how about we get moving?” Marya suggested without really asking, starting to hand things to him. 

The group made several trips up the stairs, avoiding the elevator as it seemed to take longer than twice the amount of trips they had to make on foot. Pierre took most of the boxes, the girls more protective of their suitcases then the fairy lights they planned to string crossed the room. Pierre hummed something softly in the back of his throat, stopped by a few grunts you’d predict of a man his size, though he didn't seem to struggle with the weight at all. His large arms flexed as he readjusted his grip on the cardboard, pushing it further up his chest for extra support. His chest, a broad chest that sat between broad shoulders, carried by large legs. Natasha stared at his forearms, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and the flex of muscle as he carried her things the entire walk up the stairs. 

Pierre leaned the box towards his left arm, leaning backward subtly to support the weight as he moved his other arm to open the dorm room. It was just as Jane Doe as the girls expected. The room was next to empty, 1 standard bed frame, and one loft bed, with blue empty mattresses on them, an orangey dresser sat in the middle of both beds. There was room for a desk on Natasha’s side, but no desk there. 

”It’s bigger than mine was!” Pierre chuckled, placing the box on his choice of bed with a small grunt. The girls quickly chose beds, pushing their suitcases next to the frame as to mark their territory. ”It’s nice! I'm excited to see it all settled in-” Natasha looked around, hands clasped together against her chest, swaying slightly to look around. Sonya had called the loft bed originally since Natasha wanted to bring her own desk from home anyway. 

”We can put our picture frames on the window seal and hang up the flag above your desk and…” Sonya started planning, Natasha leaning in and hanging on every word.

Marya shook her head and patted Pierre's shoulder, the two of them continuing to move everything up the stairs and into the room. They had everything pushed into the room before the girls finally turned back to the door to announce their plans. ”Oh! Thank you-” Natasha looked around, reading the names on the boxes to assure they hadn't forgotten anything. 

Sonya and Natasha attempted to excitedly unpack their things and get straight to decoration before their voice of reason stopped them. “Girls, how about we eat first?” Marya stopped them, and even if they didn’t agree with _ that _statement they agreed. Marya turned around to lead, looking at Pierre confused, and you could tell by his awkward face that he was thinking of how to tell her something. He had always been an anxious little thing, nervous to even share his name, and Marya knew this well.

“What is it, Pierre?” she asked softly, not as stern with him as the girls. He cleared his throat, pushing up his glasses and smiling at her. “I actually forgot my roommate had invited me to eat lunch with him after class and-“ 

“Oh then he should be eating with us then?” Marya interrupted, how she usually did. She always had a knack for solving problems in her head for herself, expecting everyone else to understand once the decision was made. Pierre was tightlipped, not sure how to turn down her proposition, opening his mouth to oppose but closing it almost as soon. “Oh um- alright that’s okay…”

Marya seemed pleased, waving at the girls and guiding them behind her like baby ducks, Pierre followed suit, shutting the door behind them. 

The cafe Marya chose was the most casual of sorts, the kind that played soft music and was littered with college students doing homework and eating between classes. It was popular with students because of just how close it was to the biggest dorm on school grounds, and how strong the expresso really felt on a Monday morning. The girls gagged at Pierre as he ordered the black coffee, making fun of how he looked like he'd order some frilly caramel-pumpkin-sugar frappe, the girls tacking on random words that meant nothing to make the name of this made-up drink all the more preposterous. 

Natasha chose the table with the excitement to sit by the largest window in the cafe. She sat next to Pierre happily, stirring her coffee with the spoon they had given her, Sonya pulling the sleeves of her cardigan around her palms so she wouldn't burn herself on the mug. ”So what is college like?” Natasha asked excitedly, the clink of her spoon as soft as her voice, leaning close to Pierre. 

”It’s a lot of fun, but take it seriously because it’s gonna be challenging” he answered just as soft as she asked. Marya seemed to appreciate this answer, giving him a noise of agreement, mumbling something of the ”I told you so” type. ”It’s easiest the first year, well usually easiest but I started off with a challenging major so…” he added shyly, always too nervous to share about himself. Natasha didn't seem to mind though, still stirring her well-mixed drink as he spoke.

”Do you party a lot?” Sonya laughed out, sipping her warm drink again. Pierre chuckled back, shaking his head ”No, no not me...I prefer to stay in”

”Why? That's so boring-” she teased 

Marya put her hand on Sonya, giving her a ”don’t ask things like that” look before readjusting herself. Pierre didn't seem to mind so Sonya rolled her eyes, kicking her legs outwards. ”I have a lot of work to do-” 

”He’s getting his doctorate in _ law _!” Marya stopped him again, bragging on him like her own son. ”These girls haven't even picked a major yet! Either of them!” she scolded. Pierre laughed nervously, taking a drink of his cooled coffee, starting again. ”Well, that's what freshman year is about really, deciding and sticking with a major! That's the way to go about it honestly.” 

”I knew what I wanted because I've wanted to be a lawyer since I was a teenager, but I was driven towards it I suppose. These girls will find what sparks, just make sure you don't do anything to waste that opportunity-”

He spoke like a law student for sure, mature and pretentious almost, his glasses sliding down his nose. Pierre cleared his throat softly and rested his hands on the table, his posture was unmatched, Natasha staring up at him still. The long pause proved that Sonya and Natasha could start a new topic, the group joking and blabbering on for awhile.

The ding of the bell at the door, a familiar one Pierre had heard 10 or 15 times alone since the girls and him had sat down. Every time he had looked over aimlessly, catching a glimpse of the new person entering the building, it really hadn't been anyone he knew or truthfully was expecting. He seemed on the edge of his seat, and this time the pressure built up in his shoulders, as an exceptionally handsome man entered the cafe. Pierre took a double-take on the familiar face entering, the blonde hair catching his eye ultimately. ”Oh- there he is” he commented, trying to stunt the anxiety in his throat. Marya looked up with a smile, the girls falling her like young dogs mimicking their mother, Pierre waving down the blonde viper. 

”Anatole!” he called, not too loud that it was inappropriate for the setting. The skinny man turned suddenly, his name surprising him, face resting and a wide smile forming in response to Pierre. A wide dangerous smile of bright white teeth, he waved and turned back to the counter to order his drink.

Marya and Pierre caught each other between glances, locking eyes, hers of suspicion and his of anxiety, quickly looking away from each other. 

Anatole walked towards the table, holding his coffee by its lid, pushing on Pierre to make him scoot over. His face was soft, his nose round, and his eyes big. He had unnaturally blonde hair, so much so it looked dyed, and his eyelashes fluttered like they were false. He was just as beautiful as any man you’d see of Instagram, sipping his trip slowly.

After a pause of confusion Pierre cleared his throat and placed his hand gently on Anatole, making him stop the practice of sucking up through his tiny red straw, and right before it hit his lips he let it fall back down, repeating this over and over. Anatole raised his head to look at the group staring at him, as if waiting. 

“Oh- _ oui _ , i’m Anatole! _ et vous?” _

The french surprised them, very visibly, and surely the accent. Marya blinked a few times, before smiling, reaching across the table for his hand. Anatole smiled back, that wide and cringing smile he had used earlier, shaking her hand firmly. “Anatole! I’m Maria Bolkonskaya, oh but please call me Marya.” her tone so matter of fact with him. He passed his eyes to Sonya, since she sat next to her Godmother. Her face was shy, not shaking his hand as Marya had. “I’m Sonya-“ she started, before a peaking head interrupted her “and I’m Natasha!” The voice scared Anatole, making him jump. Pierre wasn’t so large he blocked her, but Natasha so small she was easy to block. 

Anatole smiled, leaning across the table and looking to Natasha again, pressing his finger against the table next to her hand. “I like that bracelet!” he complimented, making Natasha blush scarlett. 

“Thank you!” she renounced, her voice loud in the quiet cafe, “-it’s like my promise ring!” Her voice was affectionate and warm, placing her free hand over it again just to feel it. She smiled with her eyes, looking back at Anatole, who leaned so close against Pierre their shoulders touched. 

The girls had already shared a glance of agreement; something was definitely wrong with this picture. 

Anatole was beautiful, almost scarily so, bright as if he was made of white fabric. A short thing, and hardly lanky, nowhere near the size of their dear Pierre, and his hair was done specifically as if he was sprayed with a hose it would crumble apart. Not that was a bad thing, Natasha and Sonya hardly any different, but this man looked self centered and envious, the person you’d imagine in your head if someone told you to imagine a rich, greedy, angel. Anatoles clothing just as unusual, wearing a tight t-shirt, one of the political shirts the stands outside of school sold to students under the alias of School Swag, and torn jeans that barely made it to his ankles. The most peculiar part though was the coat, the coat that hung on his slender frame like a bedsheet, attempted to be rolled up his arms but instead draped open at his elbows. He had his hands folded together and with every shift or shrug the shoulder would droop down farther and farther; this coat wasn’t his.

In fact, it was Pierre’s, because Marya had gifted it to him a few christmas’ ago. The thing probably would be big of Pierre even now, even if the man hadn’t lost much weight. This Frenchman didn’t seem like someone Pierre would be around— they seemed directly opposing to each other. Still, Anatole leaned on Pierre like how a cat rubs your leg when you first enter a home, Pierre as nervous as he had been the entire time Anatole had been inside the Cafe and the entire time Anatole has been sitting down. There was some sort of affection between the two, an affection Marya hadn’t figured out in her head. 

“So you’re from France?” Sonya finally broke the silence, playing with the plastic on her lid. “Yes, I transferred here at the beginning of last semester..” he answered coyly, an odd personality for him to convey, confusing Pierre. He wasn’t ever shy, he wasn’t Coy, and he wasn’t nervous. Pierre had lived with this man for almost a year, he knew Anatole well. 

This excited the girls nonetheless, asking him a million questions at bullet speed about Paris, french food, and his skin. Pierre looked at Anatole the entire time, glancing down and trying to figure out what he was _ doing _. His demeanor was off, though his posture and physical presentation was just as stiff and presentable, his attitude and tone was that of a defensive animal. Pierre had watched this man waltz into a frat with only him and Dolokhov and ended up stealing the party from under everyone’s feet. He was amusing, outgoing, and certainly wasn’t shy. 

Pierre didn’t talk much for the rest of the lunch, trying to figure out what he was doing, why he was acting so different in front of his friends. 

Soon Marya called the punches, everyone getting up and going outside, ready to drive in their own separate directions, “until next time! see you soon” , ready to say their goodbyes. Marya stopped Pierre for one more hug as Sonya and Natasha climbed into her car, Anatole well into the front seat as he had been since they walked from the door. 

“Please don’t take offense to this but Anatole was uh- strange?” she struggled over the words. 

“I don’t really understand what was wrong with him today…” Pierre paused and looked at him in the front seat “- he’s so outgoing and usually quite conceded i don’t know what bit his tongue” 

Marya nodded understanding, rubbing his big shoulder, standing on her tippy toes to give him one last kiss on the cheek. “We’ll meet him again i’m sure! Maybe he’s just shy to meet someone close to you, since we aren’t just college kids” she teased, straightening his shirt. He waved Marya and the girls goodbye before leaning into his car and shutting the door.

Natasha stared out her window at Pierre’s car, watching the men until she couldn’t see them anymore. Sonya glanced at Natasha , trying to hold a serious look on her face, the girls snorting until they burst into a fit of giggles. Marya shook her head and cleared her throat “it isn’t kind to joke about people” she commented bluntly.

“We were laughing at each other” Sonya defended.

“No, you were laughing at Pierre, don’t lie to me or yourself especially.” She glanced in the rear view mirror, Sonya slumping and crossing her arms like an upset child. Natasha leaned up against the back to Marya’s seat, propping herself up on the arm rest, picking at her bracelet. “I just don’t- _ We _just don’t understand” she asked seriously. 

Marya scolded, hitting her turn signal and drifting into the left lane. “You think that gives you any right to bully him and laugh behind his back? He’s your family in the same way I or Sonya are. Do you think i understand? No, but still i’m not laughing.” 

It always felt worse when Marya wasn’t even kind to Natasha, her favorite, the one she usually showed the lenience with. She hadn’t tried to poke fun at Pierre, a man she usually enjoyed the company of, but the lunch had been quite strange for the group of girls. Anatole was handsome, almost as beautiful as her own Andrey, but the relationship between the two men felt up in the air. Almost as if the girls weren’t being told the full truth. However, even Marya understood the mutual feeling, quiet about the one thing everyone wanted to talk about. Natasha never understood the privacy the girls reserved for each other, knowing well her cousin and her were going to gossip once away from Marya, but upset she wasn’t gossiping _ with _Marya. 

They pulled into the dorm parking lot, the excitement of where they were refilling her. Marya stood outside her car for only a moment to kiss the girls away, smoothing Natasha’s shoulders with her hands.

She began to pull away before Marya squeezed her tightly. “Natalie, just because you don’t understand something doesn’t mean it’s wrong or abnormal. Pierre will tell us what he knows needs to be told, until then don’t let it fester in your mind, alright darling?” 

“Yes, kresta- krestnaya…” 

“krestnaya mat', angel” Marya chuckled. 

Natasha blushed in embarrassment, turning and following Sonya up the stairs, waving down to her Godmother before entering the dormitory. 


	2. Natasha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha is missing Andrey, learning French, and planning parties with women she met 2 hours ago in a staircase.

Natasha could hardly see the stairs over the brown paper bag in her arms, leaning it up against her chest as she slowly felt around with her foot for every step. She stumbled as she reached the top, fixing her footing and readjusting the grip on the bag, huffing and shaking curls from out of her eyes. Natasha felt around for the lanyard tied around her belt loop trying her hardest not to pull her hand from the bottom of the grocery bag, and the second she did, the bag lost its balance and fell off the side of her arm and hit the ground. 

”Dammit…” she groaned, dropping the keys back against her leg and crouching down to pick up her now scattered groceries. She reached around to pull everything into a pile, reaching her hand forward to meet two feet standing in front of her. Natasha looked up quickly, pulling the orange in her hand close to her chest, a makeshift weapon just in case. 

The woman towering over her was just beautiful, and by her own personal bias, Natasha was calm. Her legs were long and her hair was big and curly, blonde highlights swirling around her head and popped off the dark brown of her curls so nicely. Her lips were full and covered thickly in lipgloss, her eyes a surprising and sharp blue, like those of Pierre's roommate. She crouched effortlessly and met Natasha on common ground, smiling a white smile at her, her teeth as straight as they were shiny. The woman was gorgeous and Natasha found herself attracted to her in a dangerous way, darting her eyes down to the floor before making eye contact to stop herself from blushing, attempting to start the conversation before the beautiful enchantress beat her to it. 

”Need a hand?” her voice soothing, while still sounding serpentine. Natasha nodded with her mouth standing open, looking like a corpse. The woman laughed, sitting the bag upright and tossing things inside. Natasha gazed rudely for a few seconds before shaking herself out of it, grabbing things with her and stacking the bag haphazardly. Soon everything was off the floor and both the girls stood up, Natasha holding the now less neatly filled bag in front of her dorm. 

”Did you just move in?” the serpentine woman asked, head cocking slightly like that of a dog. 

”No- well sort of. I and my cousin live here together!” she chirped, her grin cheesy and ridiculous. The woman chuckled, putting out her hand for a handshake, Natasha taking it, reluctant to drop the bag again.

”I'm Hélène, I live down the hall.”

”I’m Natalie! You just call me Natasha though-” 

Natasha was cut off, a voice calling up the stairs for Hélène, both women looking down. The voice was just as weaselish as his lovers, the man at the bottom of the stairs intimidating and covered in tattoos, face impatient. Hélène squeezed past, Natasha backing up against the door so she could get by easier, watching her run down the stairs. She waved back up to Natasha, the bracelets jangling on her wrists, before her and the weasel man walked outside and around the corner. 

Natasha stared at where she was standing before unlocking her door again and going inside. Her face was red as she locked eyes with Sonya, who had turned around in her desk chair at the sound of the door, one of her headphones dangling against her chest as the other blared music into her ear. 

”What took so long?” she complained, ripping her other headphone out and throwing them against the desk, throwing her legs over the chair and walking to her friend. ”I saw the most beautiful girl I think I've  _ ever  _ seen in the hallway,” she answered, setting the bag on top of their mini-fridge, pulling open the tough door and started loading it. ”I thought the most beautiful woman you had ever seen was that model on Tv last weekend?” Sonya teased, pushing food back against the wall to shove more food towards the front, a very twisted system. ”Well, I've definitely changed my mind now! She lives down the hall and she was this beautiful lightskin I swear I fell in love in 2 minutes!” 

Sonya shook her head and laughed as they finished unloading the groceries, crumbling up the bag and tossing it into her wastebasket. She grabbed the strawberries from the top of the fridge, the ones she had left out on purpose, and took the few steps back to her desk. ”I've gotta finish this so  _ shhh _ ” she joked, sitting back down and putting her headphones in. 

Natasha sat at her own desk, shaded by the bed above her, pulling her skinny legs up on the seat, opening up her computer and logging into Discord. She originally had no idea what Discord was, Andrey insisting it was ”a whole shit load easier than Skype!”, but she was sure it was just easier for him and him alone. Her chat dinged, a message from  _ Scooper Shooter _ (1), her heart skipping a beat. 

**Scooper Shooter ** (today at 3:12)

sorry i haven’t been texting Tasha :/ my entire group is on punishment so we hardly have 5 minutes before lights out to do anything. 

**Scooper Shooter ** (today at 3:12)

i haven't showered in like 2 days!!! i didn’t sign that contract bullshit and everyday it gets harder to not just give up and leave. 

**Scooper Shooter ** (today at 3:13) 

i miss you so much ):

Natasha grinned, unfolding her legs and using them to pull her closer to her desk. 

** **Natpotato ** ** (today at 3:55)

i’ve been thinking about you all day!

**Natpotato** (today at 3:55)

i just got back from the grocery store cause Sonya was being lazy LOL 

**Natpotato** (today at 3:55) 

i’m not totally against you coming home right now! i’ll drop outta school and we can party until we slip and die in the streets of Moscow!! Jk 

**Scooper Shooter ** (today at 3:56) 

don’t tempt me! 

**Scooper Shooter ** (today at 3:56) 

are you still wearing the bracelet?

Natasha smiled fondly at her wrist, rolling her eyes at that stupid question. Of course she was wearing the bracelet! She loved it. 

**Natpotato ** (today at 3:56)

Duh!!!! i love it 

**Natpotato ** (today at 3:57)

_ image0.png - 390.85 KB _

**Scooper Shooter ** (today at 3:58)

it looks so good on you!

**Scooper Shooter ** (today at 3:58)

i promise i’ll buy a real ring the second i get home! you’ve gotta act surprised though okay? 

**Natpotato ** (today at 3:58)

pinky promise!

**Scooper Shooter ** (today at 4:00)

shit i gotta go

**Scooper Shooter ** (today at 4:00)

i love you! i’ll text you asap

And as soon as he came, he was gone. Natasha sighed, waiting a few seconds for another text before closing the tab and staring at her home screen. She felt selfish for thinking her half of the bargain was hard, taking a deep breath to prevent herself from crying. The flash from her phone surprised her and caught her attention, leaning forward to grab it, checking the notification. 

It was Marya, her beloved Godmother. Natasha tapped in her password, leaning back gently in her chair. 

**Natasha, are you busy? **

She wasn’t, but she knew Marya well enough to assume this was gonna get her wrapped up into helping her do something, which she certainly didn’t want to do. 

**No i’m not, what’s up?**

She answered truthfully, groaning as she threw her head back, propping her feet up on her desk. She stared at the text messages, watching Marya type, and then stop, type, and then stop. 

**Did you stop by your French professor and talk to him about private tutoring? **

Natasha’s stomach sank, making an “ohhh shit.” face, as she stared at the message. Marya always insisted on throwing Natasha in the most socially awkward situations, and for the “favorite” she sure felt like the red-headed stepchild. 

**I was on my way to do that right now!**

She lied, standing up and tucking her phone into her jean pocket, shutting her laptop and pushing her chair out of her way. Sonya glanced up as she took a bite of her strawberry, Natasha pointing at the door and wiggling on her shoes, Sonya shrugging and looking back at her computer. 

She had been avoiding asking this for weeks, but Marya texting her was a warning that if Natasha didn’t do it Marya would “do something about it herself!” which was the last thing Natasha wanted. She pulled into the student parking lot of her Academic building, looking odd that it was so empty even if it was almost 430 and most evening classes started at 6. She shut her car door and hurried to Mr.Besset’s room, which was  _ Almost _ empty. 

Inside the room was 5 people, two girls in the back sharing headphones and taking notes, Natasha, Mr.Besset, and Anatole. She got nervous, Anatole standing close to their professor with 2 books pressed against his chest in a hug, his Macbook in the same stack, swaying against each foot back and forth as he spoke to the teacher. He wasn’t in her class, and by the sounds of it, he was proficient in the language. From across the classroom you could hear them, chatting casually in French, Mr.Busset aimlessly preparing for his night periods. When Natasha let the heavy doors shut, the two men at the whiteboard turned and looked at her, the conversation stopping.

“Ah Bonjour, Ms. Natasha, what are you doing?” Mr.Busset asked kindly, Natasha still hyper focused on Anatole. He stared daggers at her , his eyes so similar to the lady in the hallway, and god if he wasn’t more beautiful up close then at a distance. She tore herself away from him, looking up at Busset.

“My Godmother wanted me to come and talk about possible private tutoring opportunities since i’m….struggling” she admitted, embarrassed to say something in front of Anatole, who seemed to know French quite well. 

Mr. Busset nodded, smoothing his attractive suede suit jacket, stepping closer to Natasha “it’s completely possible yes but our schedules lining up is difficile, difficult you know? we can maybe…” and as he spoke, he lost Natasha to Anatole. He rocked on his feet, pacing slowly and hardly moving, tapping his fingers against his books as he glanced around. His face was sharp and still soft, cheeks full and lips pretty, and he seemed almost like he sparkled. 

He glanced up at her, eyes widening in that subtle “I recognize you” way, flashing her a soft smile. Anatole was so agreeable to look at, his poster straight and clothing stylish, he wasn’t the most handsome man Natasha had ever seen but he was close to it.

She couldn’t help but notice his clothing, his jeans cuffed so you could see his socks, and his Gosha sweatshirt hung baggy on his skinny arms, making the rest of him look smaller by comparison. Anatole had skinny fingers that clutched around the heavy looking books, one set of fingertips clinking against the cover. Natasha tuned back in when Anatole glanced back at Mr. Busset, the man talking with his hands as if he had no other way to communicate. “So that works?” he asked her, under the impression she was listening, making her startle nervously. “Yeah! I’ll see you…” she started “, Tuesday!” he finished. She smiled and nodded excitedly, the doors to the classroom swinging open suddenly as the first group of students made their way in, an omen Natasha should go.

She said her goodbyes as Mr. Busset greeted his students, leaving and walking down the empty hallways of school. Natasha lifted her phone, texting a quick  **Consider is done! ** to Marya, barley slipping it back into her pocket before her name was called.

She turned back to see Anatole, who sped walked to meet her side, his shoes patting against the concrete floors. “Natasha! That’s your name right? Natasha?” he asked, his voice airy and high, lips tensing as he waited for her. “Yeah! Natasha is fine, Anatole right?” she asked him too, making his Rottweiler smile smother his face. 

“ _ Oui _ ! Anatole is fine,“ he mocked “you don’t mind if I walk with you out to our cars? I don’t like to walk alone especially this close to the city.” 

He talked slow, but not agonizingly slow, but didn’t talk too fast either. He was simple and easy to listen to, his voice warm and like honey on a sore throat, refreshing and painful like the first drink from a freshly opened pop can. Natasha could swim in his voice all day, absolutely no bark to his bite, his stride peppy and full of personality. Natasha wanted to  _ know _ Anatole, understand why he acted so specifically, and maybe if it was his way of flirting with her. 

But then her mind circled back to Pierre, and what Marya had said. Anatole’s shoulder pressed against Pierre’s, the coat that hung loosely on his shoulders, how he smelled like Pierre. Natasha had only thought briefly on the concept, brushing off what Marya had insinuated completely. It wasn’t as if Natasha was unhappy he may be gay, it was that she  _ knew  _ Pierre, she’d known him since before she could read or write! She would know if he was gay, she would know if Anatole was his boyfriend! Maybe she was thinking with her heart, or lack thereof, thinking with her dick, even though she had no reason to covet Anatole, she had Andrey! 

She glanced away from him, sticking her chin up and smoothing the thighs of her jeans, turning back to Anatole with more power. “You live with Pierre?” she asked rhetorically, mostly prompting him to spill the beans. “Yes, he’s annoying as all hell !” he complained, but was comfortable with everything he said, you could tell because his voice never strained. Natasha was never that way, she could never be negative so nonchalantly. 

“He stays up all night and never comes to bed, I wake up? he is in bed! He works like he’s running out of time” he explained, his Russian broken, waving his hands around to validate his point. 

Natasha could break down that sentence for hours from the tone he said it in, to how he phrased it. “Comes to bed,'' referring to  _ one _ bed, not two, but that is a simple thing for a non native to mess up! She was sure she, and her whole family in Moscow, was overthinking simple cultural differences. Perhaps in France men are more affectionate, perhaps men sleep together commonly, or perhaps this man next to her knew Pierre much more than she was giving him credit for. Regardless, she said nothing, nodding along.

“He’s always been that way! Sweet guy really, just so sad all the time!” she agreed. 

“Right! Doesn’t he ever have any fun?” Anatole scoffed, rounding the corner and entering the parking lot with Natasha, the breeze of a soon to be cold Russian night beginning. “I come here, meet all these crazy people, and the man I spend all my time with is a...how you say  _ perdant _ , a dork!” Anatole’s voice dramatic and theatrical. 

Natasha chuckled, her car parked towards the front, prompting the two to stop. “Maybe it’ll be up to you to ah- loosen him up!” she joked, pressing her knuckle into his chest. Anatole smiled warmly at her, a smile most naive, and waved at her. “This is your stop right? Then I'll be going, i need to actually study tonight!” he turned and walked away, disappearing between two cars. Natasha watched him the entire stride, eyes scanning him, staring at his ass. She blushed and waved the thoughts away, entering her own car.

She glanced up at her mirror, the dried handmade flower crown delicately holding itself up, a cute panda shaped air freshener swaying next to it. Natasha pulled down her mirror, flipping the lid open to stare at herself. She watched herself for awhile, taking in deep anxious breaths for no reason, dissociating as she looked back at her big brown eyes. 

Natasha was only broke from her stare by the sound of her phone, ringing out of control, vibrating against the plastic of her cup holders. Sonya was calling her, Natasha quickly answering and tapping the speaker button. “Where are you??” she asked suspiciously, Natasha starting the car probably not helping any with her case. “I told you? I was going to talk to my French-“ she tried to defend herself before being talked over “- _ THAT _ was an hour ago dude! I finished my english work and you're not even back yet!” 

Natasha groaned obnoxiously, hanging up, and throwing her phone into the cup holder. She wasn’t gonna be bossed around until adulthood by her family just to be bossed around into adulthood by her family! She drove home, parking, and heading up the stairs. As she took her final step, she saw that familiar set of eyes, getting a rush of cold hair as she was reminded of Anatole in the parking lot. Hélène turned towards Natasha, judgmental eyes turning into kind ones, a smirk crossing her face as she waved. Natasha stopped, glaring at her door, and walking towards Hélène who had her boyfriend from before with her this time around. 

The smell of the weasel boyfriend instantly caught her as he blew the cigarette smoke out of his mouth and into the hallway. She knew for certain smoking wasn’t allowed in the halls, especially obvious when she caught the attention of the undone smoke detector directly above their heads, implying they had gone through the trouble of taking it apart. Hélène had changed her clothes, a baggy black band t-shirt tied up in a knot and dotted pajama shorts that made her thighs look so… _ full _ . The shirt was obviously his, especially taking in what he was wearing himself. He wasn’t wearing a sleeveless shirt anymore, so she couldn’t see his tattoo as well, and she knew it would be rude to ask since it would prove she was staring at him, but she couldn’t help it. His arms were big, and his sweatpants gave away a lot of secrets, and she found herself red from even glancing at him. 

“What’s her deal?” he asked sorely, blowing another huff of smoke from his mouth, this one purposefully directed at her. Hélène laughed at him, grabbing Natasha by the forearm and pulling her closer to him, her cold hands surprising and her acrylic nails digging into her arm. “Fedya, this is Natasha!” she purred, ``she lives  _ right  _ there!” she used her free hand to point at her dorm. 

“It’s Dolokhov” he corrected rudely, leaving his cigarette in his mouth to reach out and shake her hand, his grip tight but his hands similar to hers in size, nothing like Pierre. His squeeze hurt though, Natasha loose like a noodle as he shook her, wiping quickly down his thigh to signify that her hand had been unpleasant to touch. She blushed embarrassed, fiddling with her bracelet again, Hélène reaching over and smacked his arm, nearly knocking the cigarette from his fingers. 

“Well, I've gotta go finish my history assignment…” Natasha fibbed, swaying slightly and rocking backwards. Hélène nodded and grabbed Natasha by her forearm again, this time gently, offering her a cigarette which Natasha quickly declined. “Do you only focus on school? Have a little fun!” she teased, shaking her gently. Natasha laughed and shrugged her off “I hate studying and working all day but I don't have anything else to do!” 

Hélène smirked devilishly, bringing her hand up to hold Natasha by her chin, pulling her face up as if to examine her. “How about you come out with me and Dolokhov tomorrow! Big party at his frat it’s gonna be loads of fun, you can make some friends” Hélène tempted, letting go of Natasha’s face. 

Natasha blushed, stammering and waving her hands nervously “I dunno…” but Hélène quickly cut her off. “You can bring whoever you want, your roommate or mom or dad or cat I don't care! Do you have a boyfriend?” 

Natasha nodded happily, before slumping her posture again. “I do! but he’s not here ...but I'm sure you’d love Sonya , my roommate, and she’s been cooped up all month too so!” she finally agreed. “Awesome, I’ll text you the address! Gimme-“ she motioned for a phone to be placed in her hand, Natasha tugging it from her pocket and placing it in her hand. Hélène smiled, putting a kissing emoji next to her name, and handing it back. “Elena?” Natasha questioned, Hélène shaking her head and pushing the smoke from her mouth “the name my mother gave me! You still call me Hélène though ;  _ est charmante  _ how you say it~” she cooed. 

Natasha giggled and held the phone in both her hands, turning away from the two and waving goodbye to them. Dolokhov murmured something low as she walked away, but staring at the contact she was too happy to pay any attention. 

Sonya was not as happy to see her, sitting up in bed with a bowl of chips at her knees, watching a video on her phone. “Natasha! I could hear you out in the hallway” she complained, pushing her things aside and standing up, her pajamas ruffled. Natasha shied away, feeling bad about her attitude earlier, even if still a little snide from their conversation. She decided to try and lighten her friends sour mood “I was out in the hallway with a friend of mine! Her name is Hélène i met her this morning- she invited us to a party tomorrow!” 

Sonya lit up, a smile creeping on her face, and forgiveness filled the room. “A party? and i can come too? was I Really invited or are you just being kind to me Natasha?” she accused, Natasha throwing up her hands in defense. “No! they said I could bring anyone i wanted!” Sonya glew like a pregnant woman, jumping slightly as she got excited, pumping her fist. “We’re finally gonna  _ do  _ something!” she exaggerated, making Natasha laugh. 

The girls gossiped for a few minutes before separating, Sonya plugging in her headphones and laying down to finish it, turning the lights off as Natasha sat at her desk. The light from her laptop was the only light filling the room, her Airpod tucked into her right ear, the other laying on the wooden desk. She nervously waited, glancing back at the discord tab at the top of her browser, unable to really focus. 

**Natpotato ** (today at 10:43)

french is really stressing me out ):

**Natpotato** (today at 10:44)

i got invited to a party though! I met this super gorg girl named helene she’s super cool

**Natpotato** (today at 10:44) 

she asked if i had a boyfriend and it made me so sad !! i get to meet her boyfriend but she can’t meet mine yet!

**Natpotato** (today at 10:45) 

i wish you were here already. 

She rested her head in her hand, tapping the open space around her touch pad, watching the screen intensively. Finally, she gave up waiting, opening up the Netflix app on her computer, small screening Discord. 

Natasha had almost fallen asleep when a ding in her ear woke her up, making her shake away the grogginess in her eyes. She yawned, still sitting at her desk, but her leg falling asleep from being folded. She turned around, looking at Sonya fast asleep in her bed, phone plugged in and on the floor. Natasha yawned, blinking at the screen and jolting herself awake.

**Scooper Shooter ** (today at 1:30)

sorry i’m so late tasha

**Scooper Shooter ** (today at 1:30)

i could say i hope your asleep but i don’t

**Scooper Shooter ** (today at 1:31)

you are way too good at making friends snowflake 

**Scooper Shooter ** (today at 1:31) 

was her boyfriend cute? lmaoo

Natasha could squeak from happiness, but conscious of her sleeping friends behind her, celebrated quietly. 

**Natpotato ** (today at 1:38)

i’m awake! u woke me up i was falling asleep in my desk chair! 

**Natpotato ** (today at 1:38)

he was so cute!!!! he had tattoos 

**Scooper Shooter ** (today at 1:39)

cute as me?

**Natpotato ** (today at 1:39) 

no way!!!! not at all

**Natpotato ** (today at 1:39)

he was super rude to me anyway so any ounce of crush i had on him was ruined LOL

**Scooper Shooter ** (today at 1:40)

lucky me! maybe i’ll get a tattoo

**Natpotato ** (today at 1:40)

yes pls !!

**Natpotato ** (today at 1:40) 

he had a full sleeve it was like a naked lady?

**Scooper Shooter ** (today at 1:41)

classy!!!

**Scooper Shooter ** (today at 1:41)

is helene cute ;)

**Natpotato ** (today at 1:42)

she’s legit the most beautiful woman i’ve ever laid my eyes on andrey!!!! she’s so pretty

**Natpotato ** (today at 1:42)

her eyes are bright blue it’s crazy

**Scooper Shooter** (today at 1:43)

I prefer brown <3

**Natpotato ** (today at 1:44)

shut up!!!! hehehhe

**Natpotato ** (today at 1:45)

for real though I need it head to bed! ily

She usually waited to him, but this time she reluctantly closed her laptop and yawned, pushing her Airpods back in the case and climbing up into bed. After all, she needed to be well rested for her party tomorrow! 

  
  



	3. Pierre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pierre goes to a frat party and quickly looses all of his best company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to add a few things!
> 
> My idea of these characters is a big mash together of all of my favorite War and Peace iterations! A mix of the Broadway actors, the Tv show actors, and how i imagined them when i read War and Peace on my own. I try and give this same ambiguity to the characters when i write them!! (except Tasha, who is 100% Denée Benton LOL) 
> 
> Also, for those who haven’t seen the show or read the book, Nikolai will be introduced in this chapter or next chapter! For those who have only come from the musical— he’ll be a very pleasant surprise! (he IS my favorite character)

Pierre sat on the couch in his apartment, studying as he usually found himself doing, his eyes scanning over the last few sentences he wrote to make sure everything was perfect before he continued. His apartment was quiet, for once, and not even the creaking of floorboards was there to distract him. 

Usually, he found himself studying at his desk but today he felt particularly lazy and didn’t feel like moving, shifting uncomfortably as his tailbone started to ache from sitting on it for so long. 

Pierre was studying law, and even though he begged his father to let him study literature, his father insisted that unless Pierre intended to pay for it he wouldn’t waste his money on a literature degree. So Pierre sat on his couch, writing a paper about Logical fallacies in famous court cases instead of studying poets or old novels as he enjoyed doing. 

His study was interrupted by loud talking getting closer and closer to the door, the sound of keys rustling in the lock, and the door being pushed open wide. The apartment he lived in was 2 story, but cramped and pushed together. The back of the couch barley left enough room for two people to enter the house without being squished between the wall of the staircase and the couch. Still, Anatole and Dolokhov, shoved themselves through the door into the cramped space, Pierre looking over the back of the couch at them.

Anatole was blabbering on and on about something, something Pierre had no idea what, and Dolokhov looked half asleep as he floated behind him. Pierre looked back at his laptop, attempting to ignore the boys, which served futile. 

“Pierre, are you  _ still _ working?” Anatole complained, setting his keys on the back of the couch, hand slipping up the back of his curls and scratching his head affectionately. “Well i need to get it done, what are you doing?” he deflected, turning his body completely now so he didn’t have to crane his neck. 

“Ah- Dolokhov is having a party, do you wanna come?” he cooed, Dolokhov squeezing past Anatole and b-lining up the stairs. Pierre followed Dolokhov with his eyes but ignored him, sighing and looking back at his schoolwork “I’ll come.” 

Anatole rubbed his head, standing up straight and smiling, pulling his hand away and walking past Pierre. “Well i’m gonna get ready, you get ready too!“ he grabbed the railing of the stairs and started making his way up them, pausing and turning back to Pierre who was sliding his laptop back into its case “,BUT! Dolokhov is showering in our bathroom so he’s gonna change in our room, just knock!”

Pierre shook his head at Anatole, who was long up the stairs, standing up from the couch with a grunt. Making him knock on his own bedroom door before entering? he was so silly sometimes. He had showered already that morning so he wasn’t terribly bothered by it but Anatole always had such a disregard for personal space; considering Anatole usually walked into the bedroom fully naked after his showers, Pierre always assumed that what didn’t matter to Anatole must not matter to anyone in his own head. 

Pierre set the laptop case on his desk, pausing and staring at it, everything seemed normal besides the pink slip of paper peeking out from under a folder pushed up against the wall. 

He pulled on the corner, a sticky note slipping out and perking back up, a small doodle of what seemed to be Pierre and a french word scribbled next to it. He took French in high school but had a harder time reading it now, especially since Anatole was so fluent. He smiled, lifting it up and pressing the sticky part down against the headboard of the wooden desk, resting his thumb against it for a few seconds before heading upstairs to change his clothes. 

Pierre didn’t take nearly as long as Anatole did, and neither did Dolokhov, who was now rummaging through the kitchen like a vulture; a vulture who wasn’t gonna find anything of value. 

Dolokhov had come around a lot and him and Pierre got along really well, especially when they drank. They were all considerably close friends, but he always got that initial awkwardness you feel of strangers before their conversations got going. Thankfully for him, Dolokhov was much more outgoing and extroverted then Pierre. “Why don’t you guys have anything to eat, aren’t y’all trust-fund-babies” he jabbed, readjusting his foot stance and shoveling through the shelves of the fridge. 

“My father pays for college not dinner, i don’t know Anatole’s excuse though” Pierre answered, filing into piles the mess all over the table. “Good thing you party so much, or y’all would definitely starve” Dolokhov laughed, pulling out a bottle and turning it over and over to read it.

Anatole finally came down the stairs, his steps rapid and excited as he turned the corner and entered the kitchen. Pierre smiled at him, over ruled by a deep sigh from Dolokhov as he shut the fridge door. “Jesus you took awhile!” he complained, walking over to Anatole and pulling his sweater outwards, examining it. 

“Well let's go!” Anatole lead, smacking gently at Dolokhov’s hands, immediately turning around and leading the men out of the apartment. 

It was hardly 8:30 yet and Anatole and Pierre arrived long before Dolokhov, losing him a few turns ago. He had taken his own car and when Pierre asked where he was going Anatole tapped the wheel awkwardly and stated that he was just “picking someone up”. Pierre wasn’t really sure why they censored Hélène like he was stupid and wouldn’t understand. How long did they think it would take him to notice?

Anatole had parked the car in front of the frat, his feet up on the chair and pressed against the cup holder, scrolling through his phone. Pierre was playing on his phone but now he just watched Anatole, following the shake of his leg with his eyes. 

“How late are we gonna be out?” Pierre asked 

“Not  _ that  _ late, like 11?” Anatole shrugged, sliding further in his seat, his scrolling slowing until he finally let his phone slump out of his head and threw his head back in boredom. Pierre chuckled at him, shaking his head, fiddling with the baggy sleeve of Anatole’s sweater. 

Finally a car pulled behind them, as seen in the rear view mirror, and the sound of muffled rap music gave Dolokhov away. Anatole pushed himself back up, pulling his keys from the ignition, and opening his door. Pierre stayed close behind him, the music of Dolokhov’s car stopping abruptly, followed by the sound of car doors. 

The sudden feeling of a hand on his back startled Pierre, distracted with keeping himself distracted, looking up at Anatole who was holding himself near to Pierre. Dolokhov called out to them, running up the stone steps in front of the considerably nice building, followed shyly by a familiar woman. Pierre looked away from them and back at the door, which he had just now noticed was standing open, the commotion of people already lively inside the building. It’s much too cold to leave the door open like that. 

Anatole drug him inside and by the time he turned around, the top of Dolokhov’s head disappeared into a crowd of men, his loud voice still recognizable.

“Sorry….” Anatole trailed off twining his fingers together “I should've told you..”

“I don’t mind” Pierre reassured him nervously, his clumsy body knocking into the people behind him. Anatole smiled and pushed into the less crowded living room, pulling two beers from the pack on the table, handing one to Pierre. 

“Well i’m glad i like to have her around yaknow” Anatole swayed, cracking open his beer and taking a sour first sip. Pierre opened his mouth to oblige but was stopped by the calling of his name, rolling his eyes and setting his can back on the table. His cold face was quickly replaced by a rosey smile, followed by a loud noise of excitement as Natasha and Sonya ran over to them. 

“Natalie! Sofia!” he opened his arms to them and the girls could both quite easily fit inside them. The girls laughed like young girls do and pulled away looking as shiny and beautiful as they always did. 

Pierre didn’t care about clothes nearly as much as the girls did but he knew when someone looked nice, or fashionable, and the tight velvety outfits the girls wore were exactly that. “You look lovely” Pierre charmed, Natasha shrugging her shoulders to get complements. 

“Yes,  _ charmant _ ” Anatole cooed as he rounded Pierre, still sipping from his can, narrow eyes as he looked at the girls. 

Natasha blushed, backing up into Sonya and tucking her head down, smiling sheepishly. “You girls look so nice” Anatole reached backwards to get them drinks, which Pierre quickly shot down “- i wouldn’t let  _ these _ boys anywhere near your cups though.” his tone suddenly serious, before his face bounced back into a smile. Pierre scoffed, waving his hand at Anatole dismissively. 

Sonya stood so visibly awkward next to her confident cousin, crossing her arms over her chest, glancing around the room timidly. Pierre understood that stand, that glance, and that nervous facial expression— it was one he often displayed himself. 

“Why are you here?” Pierre asked. “This girl from my apartment invited me- invited  _ us _ ” she emphasized, grabbing Sonya’s shoulders, pulling her forward and into the conversation. He smiled lovingly at them, head perking as loud music suddenly filled the house, followed by howls of laughter and excitement from  the other room. Dolokhov peaked his head into the living room, ushering that he wanted someone to come to him, Anatole quickly squeezing Pierre’s arm and slipping between the girls to disappear into the crowd with Dolokhov. 

Natasha rolled her eyes, leaning closer to Pierre with a grimace on her face “I don’t really like that guy!” Pierre chuckled at her, leaning back against the table “Why?”

“He seems like a douche” Natasha complained, putting her hands on her hips “I had one conversation with him and he blew cigarette smoke in my face!” 

“Well he is a douche” Pierre agreed “that’s a guy you should stay far away from, he assumes everything is his, and  _ everyone _ ” he spoke with experience, putting a troubled look on the young girls face. “Well i’m certainly not-“ Natasha started but was interrupted by Sonya “where’s the bathroom?” 

Pierre pointed up, leaning forward to motion at the stairs “it’s upstairs, like right at the top” and Sonya quickly left the pair and slipped upstairs. 

Natasha sighed, lifting her hand and picking at her lips, eyes following Sonya until she disappeared. “She worries me so much Pierre, doesn't she want to have any fun?” He sighed with a smile, reaching a hand out and rubbing her shoulder affectionately “oh don’t worry too much, she’s a lot like me i think.” 

“That doesn’t make any sense though! No offense but she’s never been as shy and...awkward as you, she’s always liked to dress up and go out!” Natasha waved her hands excitedly, trying to get Pierre to relate to her.

“Sometimes people just get sad or anxious, there isn’t always a reason, maybe Sonya just needs your patience” Pierre soothed “school is stressful.”

“Of course she has my support! she’s my very best friend but— i dunno ...” 

Natasha scrunched her face, shrugging, and sitting down on the couch defeated. Pierre sat with her, Natasha pulling her legs up and crossing them, laying her head against the couch to face Pierre. The music was still loud on this side of the house, but still groups of people found it easy to stand around and have conversations, the raised voices of every group making the room busy with noise. Pierre was certain no one could hear them, especially over their own conversations, Natasha laying her head against his arm and messing with her nails. 

“College hasn’t been anything like I had hoped, this is my first party! I’ve spent the last few months doing only school work” Natasha fussed “and i know your like a big school nut or whatever but it sucks!”

Pierre nodded, putting up his hands in defense. “Look I get it! I've been doing this way longer then you have, Tasha” he scolded her just like Marya did.

“Oh that doesn’t matter! You don’t even  _ like _ to party” she insisted, digging her elbow into his gut playfully. He looked down at her, catching a glimpse over her curls of the shiny jewelry around her wrist. 

“How’s Andrei? has he been talking to you?” Pierre asked, Natasha perked up, smiling and picking at her bracelet. “Yes of course! we try and talk every night but obviously he’s busy” Natasha sounded disheartened, pressing her face back into Pierre’s arm. “When we talk he talks about you a lot” He chuckled, getting an embarrassed giggle from the girl. “I’m so in love with him, I can't wait for him to come home…” she trailed off, Pierre sighing. 

“Me either, he was my very first friend” his voice was sad, missing Andrei seemingly as much as Natasha did. “He was always way more popular than me, mostly because he was so cute, but he took pity on a weird kid like me” Pierre laughed, making Natasha laugh too. 

“His mom showed me little baby picture of him he was such a precious thing!” Natasha cooed, pinching her fingers “- our kids are gonna be like, so cute!” 

Pierre agreed, using his free hand to gesture at his own head of hair. “Do you think they’ll have curly hair or straight hair like him?” he asked, Natasha scoffing. “My curls of course! but hopefully they have his big soft eyes ...” she swooned. 

Natasha lamented, folding her hands together and looking off into nothing, cuddling Pierre. “I know there isn’t anything to really be afraid of, since he’s not fighting in any battles, but he’s been away for so long,” she confessed, tearing up and sighing “Those few weeks where we stayed together, right before he left, we slept in the same bed every night,  _ every night  _ Pierre” she insisted as if he didn’t understand. Pierre pet her head, her curls too thick to run his fingers through “, and now I sleep every night alone, and sometimes ill fall asleep in my desk chair waiting!” 

“I couldn’t do the same, Tasha, I know it’s probably very hard for you” his tone is genuine, soft and comforting “, I used to hate sharing my home, I grew up with an unnatural amount of privacy so it was super hard for me to live with anyone. Now, I can’t even fall asleep without someone next to me”

“Pierre…” she started, glancing up at her dear family friend “can i ask you something?” He looked down at her, pushing up his glasses. “Sure, shoot” he urged, his stomach rolling around nervously in his gut. 

“Are you and Anatole...like…” she stuttered around her words, trying to use her hands to talk to him, face red with embarrassment “like...yaknow um… _ together _ ?” 

Pierre’s shoulders stiffened, his mouth falling open before he closed it, rolling his lips together. He took in a deep breath, Natasha sitting up and looking at him, Pierre avoiding eye contact. “I won’t be like...like mad! I just wanna know cause...well I just thought i’d ask.” 

Pierre’s eyes darted around the floor, shifting uncomfortably, pressing his palms against his knees. He struggled even with himself on his question, emotionally and physically. This concept of an abnormal sexuality was still such a sore subject to him— even though being gay wasn’t all that abnormal and even less unnatural. Pierre was raised alone by his father, a man who always held Pierre higher than life itself, but somehow Pierre always felt that he hadn’t ever met up to his father's expectations of him and every new thing Pierre learned about himself seemed to go against every core value he had ever been taught by his father. 

Be educated, have a wife, make money— but Pierre realized quickly that with his struggle to enjoy his schooling, his inexperience in the workforce, and now his attraction to men had completely set back any standard his dad had held him to. How could he break his father's heart like that? 

Then again, he had a hard time answering Natasha’s question on his own. Anatole and his relationship was rocky, confusing, and open. Yes, he loved Anatole, and yes he slept next to Anatole at night, but was he with Anatole? Did Anatole consider Pierre his boyfriend at all? That’s a question he couldn’t answer. 

He had this same reaction when Marya asked, sweaty and nervous, and even though he had cried in front of Marya he refused to break down again in front of dear Natasha. Pierre looked up at Natasha, who looked like the dictionary definition of regret, looking down at her lap in that i’ve-crossed-a-line way. 

“I think so, yeah” Pierre answered reluctantly, finding it easier to strawman his way around a solid answer. Natasha nodded her head rocking forward slightly, turning away from Pierre, which certainly wasn’t helping. “Thank you for like...telling me? I’m glad you trust me not to be mad or whatever” Natasha tried to defuse, trying to clear the uncomfortable energy between them now. 

Pierre smiled, opening his mouth to say something, but as seemed to be the pattern for tonight, him and Natasha were interrupted. 

“Petruska!” Anatole called, running over to Pierre and bending over, looking at him eye to eye “come with me” his voice was cheeky and his face obviously up to absolutely no good. Pierre glanced at Natasha who had a grin from ear to ear, standing up, urging Pierre to stand too. Anatole laughed, tugging on Pierre and guiding him into the room where everything actually exciting was happening, Natasha close behind.

“You escaped me, Pierre, come drink!” the blonde urged, pouring him a messy red solo cup of vodka, spilling it over the rim several times and on to his hands, stumbling until he leaned against Pierre as a stabilizer. It didn’t feel like Pierre and Natasha had been talking long but certainly it was long enough for Anatole to get drunk off his mind. 

Pierre took his cup, and much to Pierre’s repeated disapproval, Anatole poured one for Natasha too. “She can’t drink yet, Ana-“ Pierre attempted, cut off by a whiney  _ Shhh _ as he pushed the cup into her hands. 

Natasha looked at him for a silent okay, Pierre shaking his head and smiling, Natasha excitedly taking her first drink at her first college party. The music was painfully loud, the words almost impossible to make out as the crowd of drunk college students bounced around and off each other like ducks in a pond. 

Pierre was too big to be a lightweight, but he certainly found himself drinking way too much then he should have, opening up that exterior shell of anxiety that had finally been peeled away by all the alcohol in his system. He had lost Natasha in the crowd but was too drunk to pay any mind to it, getting sucked in farther and farther with his hand latched in Anatole’s, the group screaming lyrics to the song playing, Anatole blindly leading him to Dolokhov and company. 

Pierre was pulled into a section of the party where the college students weren’t shoved completely together, a small group (assumably his friends) facing in towards each other so there was a space in the middle, Anatole weaseling him and Pierre into the group. 

Dolokhov wasn’t anywhere to be seen, a spot noticeably missing where he was supposed to be. The men cheered, faces bright red and wet, giving away how drunk they were. 

Pierre looked for him for a few moments before Anatole pumped into him, smiling up at him as he sang, holding his cup in the air. Pierre laughed, dancing along with him and forgetting all about his missing friends…

for the time being.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please feel free to comment about things you’d like to see, interactions you wanna see more of, or pairings you personally like! I love to take other people’s ideas into consideration and it can inspire me a lot! <3


	4. Sonya and Natasha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sonya and Natasha get equally lost at a party and find themselves drawn to new groups of people. 
> 
> Alternatively titled ; Nikolai and Hélène

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More notes, sorry! 
> 
> Nikolai plays American football for a Russian college ( yes i’ve already said that i’m basically using Russian names and colleges as aesthetics for this ) but i just wanted to address that i do indeed understand that most European colleges don’t have American football teams !
> 
> My favorite part about school was going to see football games with all my friends after long classes and Nikolai is just such a varsity football player i couldn’t help myself !
> 
> ALSO i may have an odd set of ships but i’m giving Sonya and Nikolai what they deserved and no i will not take constructive criticism.

Sonya walked up the carpeted stairs quickly, careful to not trip in her wedges, avoiding the few people sitting and chatting on the steps. She muttered many excuse me’s and I’m sorry’s as she wiggled her way to the top. 

The carpet was stained beyond recognition, not as beautiful and well taken care of as the sororities she’d been in, but she assumed that would be expected of frat boys. It was such an ugly shade of beige, and the stains only added to her uncomfortable feeling.

The hallway was longer than she expected, glancing down both ways curiously, but kept her hand on the bathroom door handle. There was a sign hung up on it, something one of the boys must’ve bought from a store, of an alien on a toilet, so she was sure she had found the correct room. Sonya shut and locked the door behind her, turning and pressing her back to the wood, sighing. 

To say she was having a bad time was an understatement. She and Natasha had only been at the party for a maximum of  _ 15 minutes  _ and she already felt so out of place. The instant loudness, the smell of beer, and the uncomfortable atmosphere made her sick and she wished she knew where she was so she could just go home; granted if that didn’t mean leaving Natasha with no, sober, ride home. 

Sonya examined the bathroom judgmentally, the shower curtain hanging open which revealed a mess of bottles and wash rags, a suction cup disco ball sticking to the wall of the shower. The rug had a whale on it, and the double sink was just as messy and used as the shower seemed, not a space of clear counter left under all the hair gel, deodorant, and junk piled up in every corner. 

She gagged dramatically at herself in the mirror, shaking her head and shutting the toilet seat, sitting on top of it. Sonya stared at her feet, moving them around aimlessly and pointing out chips in her toenail polish, clicking her nails against the bowl of the toilet. She hadn’t really considered how gross this toilet must be until doing so.

She pulled out her phone and started scrolling through Instagram, half watching Youtube videos, and watching all the clickbait videos on her Snapchat, letting time pass on without her. The music had gotten louder, the screaming almost legible even all the way up here, and no matter how much time she killed she never wanted to leave the safety of the bathroom. 

She peacefully got that wish until the door handle suddenly jingled, followed by a set of curse words, and pounding on the door. Sonya wrapped both hands around her phone nervously, grounding her feet. 

“Pee outside!” she sassed, a mean look on her face the person on the other side couldn’t see, a person she was almost certain was male. 

Suddenly her confidence drained as the muffled words followed a visible twisting of the lock, pushed the door open, and the next-door neighbors’ boyfriend stood staring at her. 

“What are you doing!?” she protested, standing up quickly. “I  _ live  _ here, I know how to break into my own bathroom-” he insisted drunkenly, his tone suddenly shifting and his expression changing. 

“Hey, I know you don’t I?” a small smile perked at the corner of his mouth, Dolokhov reaching his hand up to support himself on the doorframe “you live like, right next to Hélène? You live with the tiny little girl.” Sonya didn’t like his tone, his face, or the fact that he was blocking the door, giving him an uninterested face with a defensive stance. “Her name is Natasha” her tone was sour, and Dolokhov laughed at her.

“Woah mama,  _ chill _ ” he put up his hands in defense, his cheeks red and his eyes droopy “my girl really likes her, Natasha right? but you seem a hell of a lot more interesting!” 

“Well i’m not” she shot down his advances, stepping forward with a sudden burst of confidence, `` let me out so you can pee.” 

Dolokhov shrugged, not moving, and pushed the stray hairs from his forehead. “I don’t even have to go,” he insisted “, but i’m glad i broke in.” 

Sonya was slowly understanding what Natasha had meant, this guy was kind of a douche. “You have such pretty hair” he added, and for a second Sonya was almost flattered “, i like what you did with it.” She was confused, suddenly not so stand-off-ish with him, standing up straighter. “Thank you….”

“Of course, such pretty long legs too” he cooed, stepping forward and grabbing her hip. Sonya coiled from this interaction, ripping herself away from his touch and slipping past him out the door, stumbling on her heels. “Woah, what’s your deal?” Dolokhov scoffed, turning 180 to face her again “stop freaking out i’m just talking to you-“ 

Sonya clutched her phone and turned the corner of the staircase, speeding down them, embarrassed. How dare he touch her like that? How dare he— and suddenly she was colliding with someone else, beer flying up into her face. She pulled back, grabbing the railing and looking down at the mess on her dress, looking up at the mans chest in front of her, so soaked with beer he looked liked he had been swimming.

His hands were thrown up in shock, 2 smashed solo cups sitting pathetically against the floor, and Sonya couldn’t help but think about how she had now contributed to the many stains of this carpet.

Sonya looked up quickly at the boy, his face was soft and childlike, a small little mustache forming on his lip, so blonde and faint if she wasn’t so close to him she wasn’t sure she’d be able to see it, his strawberry blonde hair swooped in his face with a hint of a curl, his face nervous. He was wearing a campus t-shirt and jeans, his arms still in the position to be holding cups, beer running down his neck and chest, Sonya so close to tears she might burst if she spoke one word.

“I’m...I’m so sorry” she choked, glancing back the bathroom to see Dolokhov was gone and the door stood wide open, she could make a run for it.

But she remained frozen, the boy dropping his hands and wiping off his neck. “Oh my god I didn't even  _ see _ you, i’m so sorry do you want to uh- I can grab you...toilet paper?” she gestured to the bathroom, her hands shaking. 

The guy shook his head and laughed “No! no it’s okay, it’s fine, don't worry!” he insisted. 

“Oh god i feel so bad!” Sonya continued, bending down and handing him his cups, the blonde making a confused face at her, turning the smashed cups over “Thank you but they won’t hold anything anymore, they are smashed” he joked, dropping them back on the floor.

Sonya looked around rapidly, trying to avoid his eyes, and tried not to get caught up on the many freckles that absorbed his face. “Let me grab you a towel or um— You can use my dress!!” she yelled, trying to pull up the bottom of her dress to wipe his shirt, which he quickly shot down with another laugh.

“No! Nonono- you’re so funny” he covered his smile with the side of his hand “you can help me pick us out some new shirts, how about that?” he suggested. Sonya blushed, standing like a deer in headlights, the smell of beer overwhelming as she realized she had soaked herself too. 

Nonetheless he passed her and started walking left down the hallway, looking back to see if she was following. Sonya did indeed follow him, something she had been taught over and over not to do, the guy flicking on his lights and walking to his closet. 

His room was relatively big, most if not all rooms bigger than Sonya’s however, and minimalist. His bedsheets were blue , and undone, and he only has a few pieces of furniture. He had a dresser, which a Tv sat on, a nightstand, and an old beat up couch shoved against one wall. His room was filthy, clothes laying all over and the dresser surrounded by garbage, Sonya unsure how he watched the tv. 

“I don’t really have any girls clothes” he broke her train of thought, flipping through his hung up things. He turned to her suddenly, pulling out a shirt, throwing it on the bed assumably for himself. “What’s your name, by the way?” he asked gently. “Sofia! but um— call me Sonya please” she answered. 

“Sonya… that’s pretty” he smiled, “I'm Nikolai.” 

She smiled back at him, looking around his room, nothing catching her eye quite like the dark blue sleeves of a varsity jacket laying over the back of his couch. Sonya walked over to it curiously, picking it up and rubbing her thumb over the big fabric  _ M  _ on the breast of the jacket. “You play for the college?” she asked excitedly. 

“Yes, i do….” his tone seemed avoidant, turning his face considerably more from her view, finally pulling a shirt from its hanger. “Here, you can keep this one.” 

Sonya caught the shirt as it was tossed at her, unballing it and looking at the pattern. It was a blue t-shirt with softly worn down letters, it seemed to be from some type of summer camp, small enough it looked like Nikolai hadn’t worn it since he was a middle schooler. She smiled and pulled it over her head, still a little baggy on her skinny shoulders, putting out her arms and turning playfully. 

“How do I look?” she cooed, a big grin on her face. 

Nikolai chuckled, and by the time Sonya turned back around and looked at him, he had taken his shirt off. She gasped shyly, whipping back around and covering her eyes, her feet shuffling close together.

“Sorry! I wasn’t thinking about it” he laughed, shimmying the shirt on, stumbling slightly with his arms above his head “it’s just my chest so it’s whatever.” Sonya glanced back up before facing him again, pulling down the skirt of her dress some more. “Why were you running down the stairs anyway?” he asked with a smile, crossing his arms.

Sonya rolled her eyes, stepping forward defensively “this  _ douchebag  _ would not stop bothering me, i was using the bathroom and he just busted in” she started, waving her hands around “so I was trying to avoid him and i guess i wasn’t assuming someone would be coming upstairs with two new cups of beer...why  _ were  _ you coming up the stairs with two new cups of beer?”

Nikolai rubbed the back of his head “some of the girls are hunkered down in my buddies room and they asked me to grab them some beer, I don't really like the big crowds anyway so i thought— why not!”

Sonya nodded, folding her hands together to keep them busy, swaying gently. The awkward silence was killing her, especially since she wanted to keep the conversation going with him, he was so cute. “Thanks for giving me something to wear! I didn't really wanna stink like beer too badly… even if I don't smell too hot right now anyway.”

Nikolai gasped with an idea, walking towards and past her, grabbing a bottle from his pile on the dresser, pushing Sonya softly by her shoulder to make her face him. “Here-“ he sprayed her several times with a strong cologne, making Sonya scrunch up her face. He laughed at her, waving his hand to swipe the air away so it wasn’t so polluted. She smiled, blushing and turning away from him, laughing into her hand. 

—

Natasha sat braced against the floor, teeth clenched, and knuckles curled into the carpet. Hélène held a needle to her ear, an earring between her teeth, laughing filling the room. Hélène attempted to press the needle through her ear again, Natasha squealing and tugging her ear away, the group of drunk women surrounding them bursting into laughter. 

“ _ Stop _ !” Hélène whined through her giggles, scooting closer to her, leaning her wrists against her shoulder and pressing her forehead into her cheek. 

“It’s scary!” Natasha exclaimed, smacking her hands against the ground. She didn’t remember how she got into this situation, losing Pierre and backing herself into Hélène, who ended up pulling Natasha upstairs and into this room with all her friends. Hélène was wearing the most scandalous of things, barely clothed, her chest hanging out as she leaned over, her bra strap sliding down her shoulder. She still looked so beautiful this drunk, resituating herself up on her knees, realigning the needle to Natasha’s ear. 

Everyone leaned in, Natasha squeezing her eyes so tight she could see stars, kicking her feet anxiously. “1… 2…” before Hélène made it to three she plunged the needle into Natasha’s ear, the hollow point shooting straight through. All the girls screamed in grossed out excitement, Hélène insisted she “stay still stay still!” until she could wiggle the piercing in place of the needle. 

Natasha covered her mouth and the second Hélène pushed the back on the earring she shook her head, leaning over and covering her face. She laughed along with everyone, reaching up to touch it. “Now that it’s over, it wasn’t so bad!” she proclaimed, Hélène wiping the needle on her skirt, blowing on it ineffectively. “Well now you’ve gotta do the second one!” she teased, gently placing her soft fingers on her jaw, guiding her to look her way. “I’m ready for it now!” 

Hélène readied herself when the door was pushed open and Dolokhov stood over the group of giggling girls. He gagged, turning away from them and shaking his head “ _ why _ do you always end up piercing ears in my room at these things? Do you lack any other talents” he snarked. 

“Oh shut up, she looks pretty” Hélène purred, leaning into Natasha’s neck and laying her head on her shoulder. “How’s Pierre gonna feel once he finds out she’s so smitten for you?” Dolokhov laughed, leaning against the doorframe. Hélène rolled her eyes and pressed the second needle through Natasha’s ear, a scowl on her face, Natasha too busy to notice as she looked between the couple, trying to understand why they talked about her like she wasn’t there. 

“When have i ever given a fuck what he thinks” she questioned, pulling the second earring from her teeth and replacing the needle with it. “Obviously never-“ Dolokhov started but was promptly interrupted “hey where’s Nikolai? he was supposed to bring up drinks like 15 minutes ago” Hélène whined. 

Dolokhov shrugged “I don’t fucking know, drunk probably forgot, you know how he gets.” 

Natasha leaned backward, admiring her new ear piercings in the large standing mirror leaned against Dolokhov’s dresser, pushing her ear forward and turning her head side to side. “I look pretty…” she repeated to herself under her breath. 

“Yes you do!” Hélène agreed, leaning backwards with her and tucked a stray curl behind Natasha’s ear, letting her fingertips rest on her cheek for a few moments. Hélène made Natasha feel so beautiful, rubbing her arm shyly as she looked at both of their reflections. She couldn’t help but feel pretty when someone so captivating was complimenting her and treating her so well, Natasha felt special. 

Dolokhov cleared his throat, Hélène rolling her eyes and sitting up straight, turning towards him “what?” He walked over to her and ran his hand through her curls, rubbing her forehead affectionately with his thumb, and something gentle filled his face. Natasha was surprised he could even act so genuine towards something, since he seemed like a dickhead for as long as she had known him. He smiled and pushed Hélène playfully, turning suddenly as the door was crept open.

“Woah party up in here-“ Nikolai laughed, poking his head inside the room. He was followed by a familiar face, making Natasha stand to her feet excitedly. “Sonya!” she gasped “you found a boyfriend!”

“Boyfriend?!” she protested, blushing, waving her hands dismissively. Nikolai pointed at Natasha with a beer in his hand, a big grin on his face, looking back to Sonya “this is Natasha? we have a class together!”

“We do! we do-“ Natasha giggled, catching a can that was suddenly tossed at her. Natasha opened it and took a sip, still repulsed by its taste, choking it down anyway. “Sofia what are you wearing?” Natasha teased, Sonya crossing her arms across her chest. “It’s his! I bumped into him walking down the stairs and spilled a bunch of beer…” 

“ _ That’s  _ what took so goddamn long!” Hélène deducted, certainly halfway done with her can by now. Nikolai flipped her off, Dolokhov looking down awkwardly between the interaction, Natasha giggling. The room was crowded and busy, just as crowded and busy as the downstairs was, no escaping the noisy and hot party atmosphere.

“Sonya where have you been?” Natasha yelled, hardly able to hear herself between the different conversations in the room. “I was peeing!” Sonya insisted, standing closer to Nikolai. 

Dolokhov scoffed and made a shooing motion towards everyone “Okay! too many bitches in my room, party downstairs or don’t at all-“ his voice was grouchy and annoyed, like a mom who was tired of repeating herself. Everyone stood up, filing out of his room and pushing on each other to get themselves through the narrow hallway. Natasha turned to Hélène who stayed in the doorway. 

“Thank you for piercing my ears, they won’t get infected right?” she asked, twisting them around in her fingers. “It shouldn't, just clean yourself and don’t tug them too much” Hélène laughed, swatting her hand away from her ear. 

Dolokhov grabbed Hélène by her hip, pulling her further into the room and attempting to shut the door. Hélène held on to the frame, laughing and waving to Natasha “text me!” 

“I will!” she called as the door was shut in her face, a grin from ear to ear as she turned back to Sonya, who was still accompanied by Nikolai. “She’s so nice!” Natasha swooned, leaning forward and taking Sonya's hands into her own “i feel like such a natural! I’m making a lot of new friends…” 

Natasha looked up at Nikolai, a big cheesy smile on his face as he peacefully looked between the girls. “You are a natural flirt huh!” she insisted, embarrassing Sonya as she pulled her hands away. Nikolai laughed, covering his smile with the side of his hand. “ _ Tasha _ ! it’s not like that, it’s not like that at all!” Sonya whined, tugging her dress back down her thighs. Natasha rolled her eyes, resting her hands on her hips “whatever you say!” 

“Really it’s not” Nikolai defended her, talking more with his hands then with his mouth “she literally threw herself at me though!” he joked. 

Natasha chuckled looking between the two. “Okay, let’s go back to the party!” she chirped, tugging on Sonya's hands. Sonya nervously followed, looking back to Nikolai, getting him to follow the girls down the stairs and back into the commotion.

—

Sonya was shaken awake by big hands, jumping as she regained consciousness and sat up defensively. She looked up at the friendly face of Pierre, who looked disheveled and drunk, face red with intoxication. “What?” she asked tiredly, her mouth dry and gross from her surprise nap. 

“Tasha has been looking for you, she threw up and wants to go home…” he said softly, keeping his hand on her shoulder. She looked around, she was back in the living room they started in, covered up by a jacket that wasn’t hers on a couch that smelled like booze. 

“Oh...Oh!” she realized and stood up, yawning and stretching, Pierre patting her before pulling away. “Thanks for waking me up, I don't even remember passing out” she claimed with a shudder. Pierre picked up the stray jacket now balled up at the corner of the couch, looking at it. “Well someone cared enough to cover you up so consider it a compliment.” 

His voice was drunk yet still  _ his  _ and Sonya appreciated that familiarity, especially since she felt so disoriented. “Where is she?” Sonya asked, Pierre taking her hand and leading her into the next room, the party chilled. It was dark when they arrived and time meant nothing to her at this moment, unsure if it was 11:30 or 4am, giant groups of people still sitting and talking, drinking and laughing, but the genre of music had gone from bass-boosted IC3PEAK to calm hushed acoustics. 

Natasha sat squished between Nikolai and another girl she’d never seen, Anatole holding her hand gently in his own and babbling on about her nails, conversation Sonya couldn’t focus on. Pierre called her and Natasha cut Anatole off, her face pale and sick, waving at her friend.

“Oh, Tasha, you look awful!” Sonya claimed brutally, making the small group laugh quietly. “That’s what she gets for drinking so much her first time ever” Anatole diagnosed, leaning his head against Pierre’s knee, who had taken a seat on the couch next to Nikolai. Sonya touched her cheeks and forehead with the back of her hand and frowned, flicking her on the head. 

“We should go home then“ Sonya suggested, lacing her fingers with Natasha and holding her hand. Nikolai stood up with a groan, the people held up by him sinking together on the worn in couch. “I’ll walk you out to your car” he offered without any room for Sonya to deny. The girls said their goodbyes, Pierre kissing Natasha’s hand, the group of three leaving through the front door. 

“Sorry for conking out” Sonya looked up at Nikolai, who was using his phone as a flashlight for the stairs, his face sharper against the streetlights. “Don’t stress about it, we didn’t want to wake you up anyway,” he smiled, clouds of white coming from his mouth against the cold air. 

They led Natasha to the car and Sonya opened the door for her, tugging off her shoes and walking around the car to get into her side, Nikolai following her. She sat down in the seat and left the door open, starting it so the cold night didn’t eat them alive, her eyes instantly to the clock. 2:45 am it read, making Sonya roll her eyes. 2 am?! How could she be so irresponsible. She leaned out the door and looked up at Nikolai, who was standing over her. 

“You should sleep soon,” she advised, making him giggle. “I’ll try, I can't sleep unless the house sleeps though” he made excuses, leaning against the door and closer to Sonya. She shook her head, sitting up in her seat as she prepared to drive the girls home. Nikolai perked up, putting his hand out “give me your phone.” Sonya did as she was told, handing him her phone, which was certainly almost dead.

He handed it back to her and waved goodbye, shutting the car door for her and running in front of her and up the stairs into the house. She watched him the entire way until he was safe inside before glancing down at her phone. 

_ Nikolai  _ followed by two sparkly heart emojis was now in her contacts, an empty chat log staring back at her, making her smile. Sonya put her phone against the cup holders, smiling the whole drive home.

Natasha groaned as she dropped her bag on the dorm floor, kicking off her heels and leaning against the bed frame of her loft. Sonya followed her with the quiet pitter-patter of tights on feet, having taken off her shoes to drive home, tossing the wedges against the base of her desk. Natasha groaned and lifted her foot up to her hands, rubbing them tiredly. 

Sonya came up behind her and tugged on the zipper on the back of her dress, helping Natasha take it off. She shrugged the straps off herself and shimmed out of it, Sonya turning to give her privacy. 

Sonya changed herself, staring at the shirt on her bed, the one that Nikolai had given her, before she pulled it back over her head and put it on again. It felt good, not particularly because it smelled like him, but because it was snug and comfortable. 

She was surprised by arms around her waist, looking down at Natasha’s hands, her bracelet uncomfortably cold against her stomach. “Don’t vomit on me!” she insisted, turning around as Natasha let go of her, reaching up and taking her hair out of the tight bun it was in. “Can I sleep with you?” Natasha whined, leaning her face into Sonya's chest. “Duh, but I need to wall so I can charge my phone” she regulated. 

Natasha drug her feet to the side of the bed and collapsed dramatically against the mattress. Sonya shut off the light, shining her phone down at the ground so she could climb in and over Natasha. 

She plugged in her phone and tiredly mumbled to Siri to turn on her alarms, Natasha rolling over and cuddling her like her boyfriend. Sonya pushed her phone between her mattress and bed frame, throwing her arm over Natasha’s shoulder and snuggling up to her. Sonya let her fingers aimlessly scratch at Natasha’s shoulder blades until she passed out. 

And just as soon as she closed her eyes she reopened them. Sonya woke up groggy with a blink, pulling herself away from Natasha who was tucked into such a tight ball it was hard to imagine she was comfortable at all. She stretched, trying to keep her noises to a minimum, smacking around for her phone before finding it and swiping away the alarm. 

“Goddamn” she mumbled, setting the phone on her chest and closing her eyes for a few more minutes. Sonya finally perk up and looked at her phone, remembering Nikolai, and pulling up the boys contact. 

She clicked the message button and sat staring at the empty chat log for a few minutes, the line blinking at her in anticipation.  ** _Thanks for the free shirt LOL _ ** she stared at it, frowning and erasing it. 

** _Hey, do you want your shirt back?_ ** she tried again, this one seeming more unnatural. Natasha would know what to say, she thought, looking over at her sleeping friend. Sonya finally sighed and typed a simple  ** _Hey! _ ** before hitting send and putting her phone face down on the pillow, getting up to take a shower. 

Sonya came back into the room with a toothbrush sticking out from her mouth, hair wrapped up like an ice cream cone, and wet shoulders. First thing she noticed was Natasha was awake, feet up against her desk, and a Mcdonald’s fruit parfait (definitely one that had been in their refrigerator for awhile) half eaten in her hand. She was still in her underwear watching a documentary on her laptop. 

“Good morning!” she chirped, taking another spoonful of yogurt in her mouth. “Morning” she mumbled back around her toothbrush, pulling it from her mouth and setting it on the table, she had already brushed her teeth in the bathroom. Sonya walked to her bed and kicked off her shower flip flops, kicking them under and leaning across it to grab her phone. She almost gagged when it lit up in her face, looking up at Natasha in excitement. 

“What?” she asked intrigued, pausing her documentary with a loud click. “He texted me!” Sonya sounded as giddy as a 16 year old girl again, sliding open the text message. “What he say?” Natasha sat up quickly. 

“He said…” she started, her face falling nervously “ ** _Hey? _ ** with a question mark.” 

Natasha scrunched up her face, clenching her teeth together. “That’s all?” she questioned, pushing more fruit parfait into her mouth. 

“Yeah that’s it” her tone was of defeat, staring at her phone with a quivering bottom lip. “I’m just going to-“

** _I was gonna see if you wanted your shirt back. _ **

_ Read 9:36 am _

  
  
  



	5. Pierre and Andrey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pierre eats lunch with his boyfriend and Andrey comes home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took so long to get out!! I’ve started a new job and i’ve had a super packed schedule! Hopefully the next chapters will come out quicker ;)

Pierre woke to the sun beating on his face, scrunching up his nose and reaching an arm up to cover his eyes, opening them slowly. His room was filled with sunlight and the window was pushed open, making the entire room chilly, the curtains blowing up and wavering in the breeze. 

He propped himself up on his elbow and only then did he realize he was alone in bed. The blanket was thrown open and the sheets still wrinkled from when someone was on top of them, the bedroom door standing open. Pierre shivered suddenly with the wind and pulled his attention away from Anatole’s side of the bed to get up and shut the window.

The floor creaked as he settled on to the boards, yawning and standing, shutting the window with a distinctive slide and pop. The curtains fell to a standstill and swayed against the window seal, Pierre turning back to the door. 

It still sits open, and only now that he's focused, he could hear the sound of a violin. He can still remember the day Anatole moved in. His sophomore year and the weather was bad, cold and they were promising snow. Pierre had lived alone since he started college, his dad paying for this overpriced two-story apartment that was an absolute squeeze to live in, even though Pierre had insisted he wouldn’t mind a dorm. It secluded him and living alone for half a semester proved to be unhealthy for him. 

His professor had overheard Pierre complaining about how lonely he was to a classmate, about how unsettling the old place was, and pitched him the idea of renting out half his room to a roommate. Pierre didn’t originally like that at all, some random stranger barging into his living space with god knows what baggage.

Then following that conversation Hélène, his girlfriend at the time and for not much longer, knew of his intentions to invite someone to live with him and basically begged Pierre to let her brother stay. 

Then, Hélène had sex with Fedya Dolokhov on his couch and his anger allowed him to kick her out but his generous heart couldn’t bring himself to go back on his deal with Anatole who had very excitedly thanked him over the phone for a place to stay. 

Pierre felt stuck with him then.

Pierre squinted and made his way to the door and out to the hallway, looking down the stairs as the music drew nearer. 

He walked slowly to the stairs, stepping down them quietly, looking over the railing into the living room. Anatole sat with his back facing him, sheet music set out in front of him on his music stand he had put up in the living room, slowly playing songs. 

But then only warm memories followed. Pierre pleasantly remembers the bright blue eyes peeking over a moving box at him at the door of his apartment, plums of cold smoke rushing from his nose, and bright rosy frozen cheeks. The yellow scarf wrapped neatly around his neck and slipping off his mouth, blonde hair that curled slightly like his sister, and a big toothy smile that took up much of his face. 

How Anatole laughed at his own jokes and spoke broken Russian, only ever been to Poland outside of France in his entire life, and the childlike excitement of the world around him. The instant comfort, the kiss on his cheek as he walked in the door, his soft and small hands. Anatole was like a pixie, an elf, a  _ prince _ — and that struck Pierre’s heart with something soft. 

The glow of his personality, so happy-go-lucky, always living in the moment. He wasn’t shy like Pierre, he wasn’t quite as Pierre was in any way actually, Anatole was unique and special and  _ handsome.  _ His original annoying impression of Anatole he had built up in his head, the concept of a rich and privileged dance major who was related to a woman he had only just left invading his personal space, was gone; all that was left was the warmth of new burning love in his heart. 

Anatole’s shoulders were covered in snow that day and his hands and lips were freezing but still Pierre found him warm. 

Pierre smiled with blushing cheeks and yawned obnoxiously loud, Anatole jumping, and facing him angrily. He let the violin slump off his shoulder and held his bow lazily, uncrossing his ankles so he could turn to look at Pierre. “Well, good afternoon” he shook his head and put his violin back into place, messing with the same strings again.

“What time is it?” Pierre asked as he made the rest of the trip down the stairs, walking over to Anatole and sitting on the couch behind him. “Ahh I don’t know like 11:30?” Anatole answered as he continued to play his song, flipping a page. 

Anatole glanced at Pierre over his shoulder and fixed his posture “and I'm hungry.” 

He always had a way with body language, and even if Pierre had learned to read him like a children’s book, he was still convincing with every roll of his shoulder to flex of his hand. 

“What do you want to eat?” he leaned forward, rubbing his eyes. Anatole grinned and pushed his violin case open with his foot, bending and tucking the instrument away. He crossed his arms over the chair and smiled a wide grin at Pierre “I don’t know! I wanna go and eat somewhere for real not just like a cafe” he pouted, tapping his fingernails on the back of the chair. 

Pierre stood up again, hardly being able to sit down, closing the space between him and Anatole and looking down at him. Pierre hadn’t really noticed how much he towered over him, Anatole having to crane his neck to look up at him. This shouldn’t be so surprising to him anymore because he’s bigger than most anyone he stands next to. 

“Well get ready we can look places up in the car” he agreed, Anatole smiling like a child, quickly unwrapping himself from the chair and standing up, finally able to stand similarly to Pierre. He still had to look up at him, but now the height difference wasn’t so uncomfortable. 

“Give me a minute” Anatole took Pierre’s hands into his own, kissing his knuckles dramatically and dropping them to hike up the stairs, skipping steps. 

Pierre rubbed his hands and rolled his eyes, looking down at himself and deciding he should probably get ready too, following the blonde upstairs. 

————————————————

Anatole scrolled through his phone, feet up on the dash, reading restaurant names that interested him and glancing up at Pierre for a visual reaction. He took care to obviously ignore the bad ones, Pierre watching him quickly scroll past them. 

“Don’t you think it would work better if you looked up what food your in the mood for instead of googling  _ Restaurants near me _ ?” Pierre chuckled, playing with his lanyard.

“Well i don’t know  _ what  _ i want!” Anatole protested, kicking his foot slightly. Pierre reached forward and pulled his legs off the glovebox, forcing Anatole to sit up “feet off the dash!” 

Anatole groaned, slumping in his seat, nibbling on his cheek and continuing to search for places to eat. “What about.. Mari Vanna?” 

Pierre smiled “I love that place, feels like my grandmas house” he chuckled. Anatole looked at him confused “how so?” 

“Oh you wouldn’t get it” Pierre teased, starting the car and putting it in reverse to pull out of his parking spot “i think you’ll like it.” 

Pierre could tell how much Anatole hated when he said that, his face going sour and his posture going defensive, turning to look out the window. Pierre fished the aux cord from its trappings under day old cups in the cupholder, shaking out the small loop and tossing it in Anatole’s direction. He quickly snatched it up and plugged his phone in, playing a song Pierre had never heard before. 

The drive was short, not terribly far from the apartments, Pierre attempting to park close to the door to beat the cold walk they would have to make to and from the restaurant. Anatole pulled the neck of his sweater up around his mouth, wrapping his hand around Pierre’s as they speed walk to the entrance, laughing quietly as they entered the lobby.

Pierre quickly shook his hand away from Anatole, a waitress coming over to seat them, glancing back down at Anatole who had shoved his hand back into his pocket. 

“This one is perfect, thanks” Pierre said in a soft smooth voice, the waitress passing out menus and taking her leave, Anatole’s aura suddenly changing and the air became uncomfortable. 

“What’s wrong?” Pierre leaned slightly across the table to talk with him quietly, Anatole smiling and waving at him dismissively “me? I'm fine.” 

Anatole quickly opened his menu and scanned through it, ignoring Pierre until he looked at his own menu. Suddenly he felt sick and every time he looked up at Anatole his stomach would spin. Pierre knew he wasn’t mad at him, Anatole wasn’t so hard to decode when he was mad. When he was mad he would cross his arms and roll his eyes and talk angrily. Pierre felt like Anatole had something to say; something he didn’t want to talk about. 

Pierre stared at him quietly until the waitress returned and took drink orders, suggesting they get  _ something warm  _ to battle to cold with a small laugh. Pierre agreed and made small talk with her, still distracted by Anatole despite his attempts.

The woman left once again and they were left alone in cold silence, Pierre taking the scarf off from around his neck and placing it bunched up in the seat next to him, watching Anatole silently flip through the menu for what felt like the thousandth time, not staying on any page long enough to actually be reading it. 

The air got thicker and more uncomfortable and Pierre was now letting his mind run wild with all the things Anatole could possibly be leading up to. 

Did he want to leave him somewhere where it wouldn’t be too personal? Did he have sex with someone at that party when Pierre had lost him for a few hours? Was he dying of some incurable disease and they only had days left together? Was it Pierre’s fault? Had he shrugged his hand away too coldly? Had he sounded annoyed with him in the car? Was he raising his voice too high? Did it seem like he was flirting with the waitress? Had Hélène disclosed something embarrassing about him? Was he being deported back to France? Had he been expelled?! 

Pierre could feel himself getting warm and his hands were shaking uncontrollably as anxiety consumed him and all the while he looked up at Anatole and he didn’t care and he continued to flip back and forth between pages nodded at nothing! What was he hiding why wasn’t he talking to him what was happening—

“ **WHAT?! ** _ what  _ ** _IS _ ** _ it _ ?!” he shouted, slamming his hands down on the table and making Anatole jump, his menu closed and now clutched in his hands. Pierre finally became aware of his surroundings and looked up at the waitress holding their mugs with a look of shock on her face, accompanied by the several looks from the surrounding people.

Pierre pulled his hands off the table and looked down, Anatole reaching over and carefully took his menu, the waitress talking quietly towards Anatole before setting down the drinks and leaving the men alone. 

“I’m sorry” Pierre rubbed his face, pushing up his glasses in the process. Anatole chuckled and pulled the cup to his lips and sipped the steaming liquid with caution. “It’s fine” he mumbled and swirled the coffee around, mixing in the whipped cream, smiling at Pierre.

“I wanted to talk to you about winter break” he answered Pierre with the least expected thing he possibly could. 

“What about it?” Pierre scrunched his nose, scraping his finger along the golden decals on the plate holding his teacup. “I know it’s not for a few more weeks but I wanted to ask you to um—“ Anatole stumbled over his words and used his hands to mimic the idea of looking for the right thing to say. 

“I want you to come home with me to France.” 

Pierre shook his head suddenly and looked up at Anatole with a confused expression, his hands stopping their fidgeting. “What?” Pierre choked on the words almost as if Anatole had asked the question in a different language. 

Anatole looked down and set down his cup, frustration on his brow, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth. “Come home with me! For Christmas” he edged on “come and meet my mom and—“

“Okay let me stop you” Pierre said with a nervous assertiveness that startled Anatole, dismissing everything Anatole had said with a simple gesture of his hands “well first, the answer is no”

Now it was Anatole’s turn to interrupt him. “Why?!” he protested “you stay home every year, you don’t even go home to see your family!”

“I prefer it that way-“ Pierre insisted, pushing his cup aside so he didn’t shove it away in the process of the argument. “My mom hears so much about you and we’ve been together for nearly 3 years-“ 

“Stop.” Pierre cut him off, his face giving away embarrassment, Anatole answering with a cold look of disapproval. “We’ve been  _ dating _ since I moved here! Why can’t you just come up this once?” Anatole whined, easily moved to tears in frustration. 

“You know how—“ Pierre stopped, taking a deep breath, “I’m far too awkward for that.”

“Not even for me?” Anatole’s voice cracked and he took in a sharp breath, sighing and quickly taking a drink of his coffee, a long huff leaving his nose. “Anatole” Pierre began, quickly stopping when the waitress returned with their food, much quieter this go around. Pierre thanked her patiently and shifted the plates around. 

“I love you but I haven’t celebrated Christmas since I was a teenager, it's just not my thing” Pierre was insincere, unable to look Anatole in the face. 

“Oh my god-“ Anatole huffed and shook his head “ _ je suis désolé d'avoir demandé _ .” 

“You know i can’t understand french, Anatole” Pierre said viciously, Anatole pushing his food away and crossing his arms, refusing to face Pierre and laying his head on the seat. 

Pierre continued to eat in silence, looking anywhere but at Anatole, who seemed to stare distantly at nothing. Pierre followed every wood stain on the table with his eyes, counted every leftover grain of salt that survived between the waitresses bussing the tables, and counted every scrap and nick mark on the black holder for the syrups and sauces. Still Anatole refused to talk and hardly moved. 

He finished what he could of his food, his appetite gone suddenly, pushing the plate towards the front of the table. Pierre flipped up his phone every few seconds to see if maybe anyone had texted him or any notification was there to distract him, but all proved futile. 

Pierre finally looked up at Anatole, who was slouching slightly and picking at the loose strings on his jeans. “Are you going to eat?” Pierre asked annoyed, Anatole noticeably rolling his eyes but still ignoring him. 

He couldn’t believe that only half an hour ago he had been subconsciously raining Anatole with compliments and reminiscing on his love for him and now Pierre was remembering how unlikable Anatole could be. 

The blonde was so headstrong he could enter a heavy weight lifting championship with his pure force of will to win every argument he was in; to never be the one to apologize. Anatole made ugly faces when he was mad that made Pierre feel so upset with him he swore with less self control he’d punch him, and when Anatole would whine and shove he was as unbearable as a child.

Pierre worked up anger towards him in his head, staring at his sharply permed hair, shifting on his knees as he got uncomfortable sitting directly on his tailbone, Anatole glancing up at him to make sure Pierre was still watching his temper tantrum. 

“Please just eat your food” he grumbled, pushing his glasses up as they slide down his nose, biting his lip. “No, I'm not hungry” Anatole insisted, crossing his arms tighter.

“We’re only here because of you” Pierre laughed bitterly, taking a sharp breath. Anatole scoffed and shook his head, holding his head as if he was on the verge of tears. 

“Sorry i cause so many problems for you!” Anatole laughed, sucking air in through his nose. 

Pierre’s anger boiled over and his jaw clenched and all at once he had never been so angry and strung up in his entire life. He clutched the tablecloth and his heart burned and could lean across the table and grab Anatole by his shirt and break his straight nose—

But then anger fled him just as fast as it arrived, rolling down his body like the shivers, catching the small tear on his cheek. Anatole turned his face completely out of view, nearly facing backwards in the booth, sniffing audibly. He was just overwhelmed and Pierre understood that, and even if it was hard to feel bad for a giant human dick, Pierre did. 

“Hey” Pierre spoke up “let me see what I'm doing in my classes and let me think about it— then I’ll come home with you for winter break.” 

Anatole suddenly spun his body back around, sweater sleeves rolled over the palms of his hands to wipe away his wet eyes, his voice hushed “for real?” 

“Only if i’m not busy” Pierre repeated. 

“Oh! Oh good!” Anatole cheesed like a little boy “of course you won’t be busy everything should work out!”

“But that’s not for sure!” Pierre tried to talk sense but Anatole seemed excited. Like always, he got what he wanted, what he whined for, what he cried for. 

Anatole smiled and rubbed aggressively at his eyes one last time, pulling his plate back in front of him and starting on his food long after Pierre finished his own. 

A stupid child— That’s what Anatole was. Pierre’s stupid, dumb, annoying child. 

————————————

“ **Stupid, dumb, annoying child** !” Andrey pulled the phone away from his ear, clutching the strap of the duffle bag he had bought 4 minutes ago at the nearest store, his father screaming at him over the phone. He had never felt so excited, his heart beating a thousand times too fast, sweating with anxiety. 

Andrey had gone AWOL, without actually going AWOL. 

His father was insane and he wasn’t expecting a positive reaction but between the 4 hours of sleep and strict punishment schedules he was certain he’d end his life before making it through camp. Andrey has to come home— he needed to see Natasha.

A few weeks ago he asked Tasha for her address to send her a small gift box of MRE’s which she insisted she wanted to try, so now he could surprise her. Andrey itched to see her, hold her, kiss her. Absolutely nothing could ruin this moment.

Well almost nothing, but Andrey had gotten pretty good at zoning his father's insane screaming out. “I’ll talk with you soon papa! Please, before you pop something” he raised his voice back at him to talk over the busy crowds of people on the train, preparing to enter Moscow station. 

“ **Andrei Nikolayevich Bolkonsky if you hang up this pho** -“ and with a tap of his finger his father was gone. Andrey wasn’t sure he could ever call him again, unsure if he’d answer the phone. If not he would call Mary, who had slipped his mind just until now, hoping she wasn’t at home tonight. 

His attention was called by the whistling of the conductor and suddenly he was swept off the train without hardly using his feet, stumbling and tripping on the concrete of the stations boarding area. He slipped through the crowds and shoving strangers until he was in an area of normal human capacity, looking around at his alien environment. Andrey had never been to Moscow, his family from the country, and god was it as bitter and cold as Natasha complained it was. 

He shivered under his heavy coat and pushed through the night until he was able to wave down a taxi, throwing his practically empty bag besides him, leaning forward to the driver “do you know where these apartments are?” 

Right next to campus, he said, we’ll get there in under 10 minutes, he says. To Andrey this ride feels like a lifetime and with his phone nearly dead he was hardly able to make the time pass. 

When they pulled up to the complex Andrey paid for the fare and gave the driver all the rest of the money he had, even though he didn’t have much left anyway, he felt like such a fish out of water and forcing that driver to deal with him deserved a tip. 

“Thank you” he breathed heavily in the cold air, nearly 1am as he pulled the door open to the lobby. A small petite blonde woman sat and stared at him, halfway through her sip of energy drink, waving at him. 

“Hello” he greeted her with a halfhearted smile, uncomfortable when talking to strangers. “Have you been signed in?” she hummed, showing him a clipboard. The clipboard was full of names, people who lived there next to people they gave consent to show up, Andrey looking over them as if to find his name. 

“I just got into town, i’m here to surprise my girlfriend” he admitted, the woman looking at him with suspicious eyes. His face and voice were worn out, his usually upbeat voice, husky as he coughed. “Is there anyway you can call her down?” 

The woman sat and thought for a moment, sighing and turning around, pressing one of the numbers on the pager, a small beeping coming from it. She tapped it over and over before a familiar voice answered, not the familiar voice of his girlfriend, but of Sonya. 

“ _ Hello _ ?” she asked in a tired and annoyed tone. “Hello this is the front lobby uh— we have someone here for a..” she paused and looked at Andrey. “Oh! Natasha” he whispered, as if the microphone was strong enough to hear him all the way behind the desk. 

“..someone here for Natasha?” she repeated. 

Sonya groaned “one second.” before the line cut. The women pulled away and turned back around in her chair, taking another sip of her drink “just wait here until one of them comes and fetches you!” 

Andrey nodded and leaned against the wall, setting down his bag at his feet, looking around the lobby. The room was filled with college swag, posters and banners from the surrounding colleges, various “Go (insert mascot)!!” ribbons and pictures all over, a Moscow University bachelors diploma hanging behind the desk, and so many bookcases. 

Books reminded him so fondly of his home, the rich kind of lifestyle you live when your father can have an indoor library, and terrorizing it with his friends. Besides his best friend, Pierre, who lived just next door, who refused to make a mess of a library. 

... _ Pierre _ ! How could he forget? Andrey had been so set and focused on his mission for Natasha he forgot that Pierre had transferred back to Moscow to attend college, quickly pulling out his phone. 

**Scooper Shooter** (today at 12:56)

Pierre what are you doing? 

* * *

**Scooper Shooter** (today at 12:56)

im back in Moscow

**Scooper Shooter ** (today at 12:57)

im at Tashas right now 

And almost like he had the conversation open Pierre read them and started typing. 

**Petrushka** (today at 12:57)

You are in town?? Since when?

**Scooper Shooter ** (today at 12:57)

since 35 minutes ago! 

**Petrushka** (today at 12:58)

You changed your mind? 

**Petrushka** (today at 12:58)

You have to come see me! 

**Scooper Shooter ** (today at 12:59)

yes

**Scooper Shooter ** (today at 12:59)

and my dad is pissed 

**Scooper Shooter ** (today at 12:59)

yes i do! I can explain everything when i see you 

**Petrushka **(today at 1:00)

when will i be able to see you?

As Andrey began to type he was cut off by a loud gasp, lifting his head quickly to the stairs, a small girl staring at him with a gaping mouth. His Natasha.

Her thick thighs were trembling and completely bare besides her pajama shorts, which definitely didn’t fit her anymore, and her tank top that was covered by an unzipped jacket she hadn’t fully pulled on. Her eyes were wide and her hair a full mess, definitely having pulled off the cap she wears to come downstairs, her hands too close to her chest, you'd think she always looked that way. 

“Andrey?” she asked as if she didn’t know the answer, his eyes lighting up as he opened his arms, laughing loudly and quickly running to her. Natasha barley had time to walk down the rest of the stairs before he was holding her, both of them laughing up a storm, Andrey swaying the couple back and forth. 

“Andrey! You’re home?!” she sobbed, a wide smile on her face, jacket slipping down her bare shoulders, tears bubbling in her eyes. “Yes! Yes i am” Andrey held her close, his arms so tight around her waist he might be restricting her to breath. 

“But why?” she shook her head as to rephrase what she had said manually “not in a bad way! You just didn’t say anything!” 

“I wasn’t really sure I was doing it until 5 hours ago” he admitted, cupping her face happily. “I’m so glad to be here with you” he let tears invade his face, not embarrassed of his happiness.

“Here! Let me sign you in— Sonya will be happy to see its you!” Natasha squealed, tugging his hand and pulling him to the front desk again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank y’all for being so patient with me! For these next chapters i would love suggestions for which characters or storylines you guys would like to see more of. It helps inspire me a lot!! Plus i want to write what you guys want to see, not just what i wanna see LOLOL so please don’t be shy! 
> 
> Thank you guys again!


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